COLUMBIA  LIBRARIES  OFFSITE 

HEALTH  SCIENCES  STANDARD 


HX641 25009 
RC395  .W86  in  spite  of  epilepsy 


GiipjiJfrug[?ui3rr5iiniH]fiuilR^ 

I 
i 


i 
I 

1 

i 

1 

1 

1 

i 

i 


THE  LIBRARIES 

COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY 


HEALTH  SCIENCES 
LIBRARY 


i 
1 

I 

1 
1 
1 
1 
1 

i 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

Open  Knowledge  Commons 


http://www.archive.org/details/inspiteofepilepsOOwood 


IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 


OTHER  WORKS  ON  EPILEPSY 
By  DR.  WOODS 

WAS  THE  APOSTLE  PAUL  AN  EPILEPTIC?  $1.25  by 
mail. 

THE  TREATMENT  OF  EPILEPSY  ACCORDING  TO  THE 
METHOD  SUGGESTED  BY  PROF.  FELIX  VON  NIE- 
MEYER.  Read  before  the  American  Medical  Association 
in  Philadelphia  and  published  in  the  Journal  of  the  Ameri- 
can Medical  Association,  Chicago. 

HISTORY  OF  A  CASE  OF  EPILEPSY  OF  52  YEARS' 
DURATION,  WITH  TWENTY-EIGHT  THOUSAND 
CONVULSIONS;  RECOVERY.  Read  in  the  Academy  of 
Medicine,  New  York,  before  the  National  Association  for 
the  Study  of  Epilepsy  and  the  Care  and  Treatment  of  Epi- 
leptics and  published  in  The  Monthly  Cyclopedia  of  Practical 
Medicine,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

ALCOHOLISM  IN  THE  PARENT  AS  A  FACTOR  IN  THE 
PRODUCTION  OF  EPILEPSY  IN  THE  CHILD.  Read 
by  request  before  the  American  Society  for  the  Study  of 
Alcohol  and  Other  Drug  Narcotics  at  Atlantic  City,  1910, 
and  printed  by  the  United  States  Government  under  the  title, 
"  Some  Scientific  Conclusions  Concerning  the  Alcohol 
Problem  and  its  Practical  Relation  to  Life." 

THE  USE  AND  A  FEW  OF  THE  ABUSES  OF  THE  BRO- 
MIDES IN  THE  TREATMENT  OF  EPILEPSY.  Read 
before  the  National  Association  for  the  Study  of  Epilepsy  at 
New  Haven,  Connecticut,  and  printed  in  the  Pennsylvania 
Medical  Journal,  June,  1907. 

OPERATIVE  PROCEDURE  AS  A  THERAPEUTIC  MEAS- 
URE IN  THE  CURE  OF  EPILEPSY.  Read  before  the 
National  Association  at  Richmond,  Va.,  and  printed  in  the 
Journal  of  the  American  Medical  Association,  February  29, 
1908. 


ON  THE  MANAGEMENT  OF  EPILEPSY.  Written  by  re- 
quest for  The  Cyclopedia  of  Practical  Medicine. 

HOME  TREATMENT  OF  EPILEPSY  AS  CONTRASTED 
WITH  INSTITUTIONAL  TREAMENT.  Illustrated  with 
exhibition  of  thirteen  cases  cured,  read  in  the  Section  of 
Medicine,  Medical  Society  of  the  State  of  Pennsylvania, 
Philadelphia  Session,  1909,  and  printed  in  Pennsylvania 
Medical  Journal,  1910. 

ETIOLOGY  AND  TREATMENT  OF  EPILEPSY.  Illus- 
trated with  18  patients  who  before  treatment  averaged  from 
4  to  28  convulsions  monthly  and  who  had  gone  from  two 
to  sixteen  years  without  convulsions  and  without  treatment. 
Read  before  the  South  Branch  of  the  Philadelphia  County 
Medical  Society. 

THE  INDUSTRIAL  STATUS  OF  EPILEPSY.  Read  by  title 
before  the  National  Association  for  the  Study  of  Epilepsy; 
reprinted  from  The  Cyclopedia  of  Practical  Medicine,  May, 
1912. 

RELATION  OF  ALCOHOLISM  TO  EPILEPSY.  Read  in 
the  Section  of  Hygiene  and  Sanitary  Science  at  the  Fifty- 
seventh  Annual  Session  of  the  American  Medical  Associa- 
tion, Boston,  1906,  and  printed  in  the  Journal  of  the  Atneri- 
can  Medical  Association,  Feb.  9,  1909,  vol.  xlviii. 

OTHER  BOOKS  BY  DR.  WOODS 

DIVORCE.  Being  a  defence  of  the  American  People  against 
the  charge  of  moral  deterioration.    $1.35  by  mail. 

RAMBLES  OF  A  PHYSICIAN;  OR,  A  MIDSUMMER 
DREAM.  Being  a  record  of  travel  with  unique  experiences 
through  Ireland,  Scotland,  England,  Holland,  Belgium,  Ger- 
many, Hungary,  Bohemia,  Italy,  Switzerland,  and  France. 
Tenth  thousand.    2  vols.,  $3.00  by  mail. 


IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

Being  a  Review  of  the  Lives  of  Three 
Great  Epileptics, — Julius  Caesar, 
Mohammed,  Lord  Byron,— the  Foun- 
ders Respectively  of  an  Empire,  a 
Religion,    and  a  School   of    Poetry 


BY 

MATTHEW  WOODS,  M.D. 

Member  of  the  American  Medical  Association,  The  Phila- 
delphia Psychiatric  Society  and  The  National  Associa- 
tion/or the  Study  of  Epilepsy  and  the  Care 
and  Treatment  of  Epileptics 


NEW  YORK 

THE  COSMOPOLITAN  PRESS 

1913 


vv 


Copyright,  1913,  by 
THE  COSMOPOLITAN  PRESS 


Q 


en 


TO 

MRS.  FLORENCE  EARLE  COAXES 

As  generous  as  a  woman  and  as  inspiring 
as  a  poet  as  she  is  discriminating  in  hero- 
worship,  this  appreciation  of  "the  noblest 
man  that  ever  lived  in  the  tides  of  time'  *  is 
dedicated  by  her  friend, 

The  Author 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Julius  C^sar :.:     .     .     17 

Mohammed (^y 

Lord  Byron 191 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Caius  Julius  C^sar Frontispiece 

FACING 

page 
Caius  Julius  Cesar 

This  contemporary  portrait  of  Caesar,  for  which  in  all 
probability  he  sat,  is  very  interesting  because  it  unmis- 
takably exhibits  the  Fades  Epilepticus.  The  original  is 
in    the    Museum    of    Naples 40 

Mohammed 

This  is  merely  one  of  the  many  ideal  conceptions  of 
Mohammed 126 

Lord  Byron 

This  also  shows  the  Fades  Epilepticus  (the  Epileptic 
face)  that  can  not  always  be  described  but  is  so  evident 
to  the   expert 190 

Lady  Byron 

Byron's  wife,  Anna  Isabella  Milbanke,  the  only  daugh- 
ter of  Ralph  Milbanke  (afterward  Noel)  and  mother  of 
Ada,  afterward  the  Countess  of  Lovelace,  Byron's  only 
legitimate  child.  After  Lady  Byron's  separation  from 
her  husband  she  became  the  Baroness  of  Wentworth. 
She  was  a  woman  of  superior  talent  and  a  nice  taste  in 
letters   and   with   a  life   dedicated   to  good   works     .      .  208 

Miss  Chaworth 

"  The  Heiress  of  Annesley,"  perhaps  Byron's  first 
sweetheart.  Byron's  uncle,  whose  heir  he  was,  killed 
Miss  Chaworth's  father  in  a  duel,  one  of  the  conditions 
of  which  was  that  the  combatants  were  to  be  locked  up 
together  in  a  dark  room.  This  uncle  was  afterward 
tried  for  manslaughter  and  found  guilty,  but  took  ad- 
vantage of  his  position  as  a  peer  to  escape  the  death 
penalty 220 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING 

The  Countess  Guiccioli  page 
The  Countess  Teresa  Gamba  Guiccioli,  lent  by  her 
husband  to  Lord  Byron  during  his  residence  in  Italy. 
This  thrifty  nobleman  even  rented  to  the  pair  sumptu- 
ous apartments  in  his  palace.  During  the  time  of  their 
living  together  in  Byron's  villa  at  La  Mira,  outside  of 
Venice,  the  Count  wrote  a  letter  to  his  young  wife  ask- 
ing her  to  try  to  persuade  Byron  to  lend  him  i,ooo 
pounds  at  5  per  cent.  Instead  of  thirsting  for  the  blood 
of  his  wife's  betrayer  —  some  say  Byron  was  not  the 
tempter  —  he  only  longed  for  a  little  of  the  English- 
man's money.  Finally  the  husband  mustered  up  cour- 
age enough  to  run  away  with  his  own  wife,  to  Byron's 
great  delight.  Her  book  about  Byron  extols  him  as  a 
combination  of  saint  and  demigod 230 

Margarita  Cogni 

The  "  Amazonian  "  heroine  of  Castellar's  "  Lord  By- 
ron"; one  of  the  "noble  Lord's"  many  Italian  victims. 
"  Her  passions,"  says  the  extravagant  Spaniard,  "  were 
as  ardent  as   a  giant  volcano  in  eruption "     .     .     .     .  236 

The  Rt.  Hon.  Lady  Caroline  Lamb 

The  "  eccentric "  Lady  Caroline  Lamb, —  the  Mrs. 
Felix  Lorraine  of  "Vivian  Gray,"  the  Lady  Monteagle 
of  "  Venetia,"  figuring  also  in  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward's 
"William  Ashe," — daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Bessbor- 
ough,  the  wife  of  the  amiable  William  Lamb,  afterward 
Lord  Melbourne.  She  infatuated  Byron  for  a  season. 
When  he  finally  cast  her  off  she  became  his  most  whim- 
sical  enemy       , , 246 


PREFACE 

These  desultory  sketches,  made  up  of  material 
gathered  from  many  sources,  have  been  written  for 
the  purpose  of  convincing  the  medical  profession,  the 
great  army  of  discouraged  epileptics,  and  the  laity, — 
since  everybody  now  seems  to  study  at  least  the  vaga- 
ries of  medicine, —  that  uncomplicated  epilepsy  and 
sometimes,  too,  epilepsy  complicated  with  other 
neuroses,  as  in  the  case  of  Lord  Byron,  is  not  incon- 
consistent  with  a  life  of  utility,  nor  even  an  important 
career. 

Besides  the  great  names  mentioned  in  the  sub-title 
of  this  book,  a  number  of  other  persons  in  various  de- 
partments of  useful  endeavor,  from  the  most  difficult 
to  the  least  complicated,  have  succeeded  in  spite  of 
epilepsy. 

The  writer  during  twenty-five  years  of  special  prac- 
tice in  this  disease  and  its  various  causes  has  had  on 
his  consultation  list,  among  numerous  others  in  every 
walk  of  life,  a  governor  of  a  conspicuous  State,  a 
mayor  of  a  great  city,  a  senator,  and  two  members 
of  congress,  none  of  w^hom  allowed  their  malady  to 
stand  in  the  way  of  political  or  civic  advancement. 
He  has  also  had  under  professional  care  college 
professors;    literary   workers;    school-teachers;    three 

xiii 


PREFACE 

clergymen,  one  of  them  brilliant  as  scholar  and  orator, 
the  others  successful  as  pastors,  and  an  author  of  pro- 
found and  witty  books  —  two  of  them  popular  enough 
to  have  been  translated  into  foreign  tongues.  Among 
his  patients  have  been  affluent  business  men,  musicians, 
organists,  and  other  instrumental  soloists,  commanding 
leading  positions  and  public  applause. 

Some  of  them  have  been  entirely  cured.  In  others 
suspension  of  convulsions  and  all  symptoms  of  the  dis- 
ease entirely  subsided  during  a  treatment  that  was  so 
mild  as  to  be  only  beneficially  felt.  And  all,  even  the 
worst,  with  a  few  exceptions,  were  helped. 

The  critical  reader  may  remember  that  these  sim- 
ple outlines,  not  pretending  to  the  dignity  of  finished 
portraits  of  these  eminent  men, —  Caesar,  Mohammed, 
Byron,  never  before  recognized  in  detail  and  definitely 
as  epileptics, —  were  written  during  snatched  intervals 
between  the  consultations  of  a  busy  practitioner,  more 
deeply  interested  in  the  cure  of  the  sick  than  in  the 
writing  of  biographies.  Much  of  the  work  was  done 
while  patients  were  assembling  in  his  reception  room. 

If  he  had  had  more  leisure,  the  descriptions  would 
have  been  shorter, —  since  even  manufactured  brevity 
may  be  the  soul  of  wit.  The  sentences  would  have 
been  turned  with  nicer  felicity,  and  more  attention 
would  have  been  given  to  the  elegancies  of  literary 
polish,  and  as  a  matter  of  mere  phraseological  me- 
chanics, a  more  careful  dove-tailing  of  episode,  allu- 
sion, and  pathologic  hint  would  have  been  made. 

xiv 


PREFACE 

But  just  as  they  are  he  trusts  they  may  have  the 
effect  of  turning  the  minds  of  the  laity  to  a  more  hope- 
ful estimate  of  this  class  of  sufferers.  He  hopes,  too, 
that  his  professional  brethren,  who  honor  him  by  read- 
ing the  book,  will  accept  the  fact  that  in  spite  of  gen- 
eral professional  incredulity  many  epileptics  can  be 
cured,  that  nearly  all  may  be  helped,  that  frequently 
seizures  may  be  almost  indefinitely  averted  and  the 
patient  restored  to  useful  occupation,  and  that  even 
in  the  most  trying  and  inveterate  cases  it  is  better  to 
persevere  in  hopefulness  than  to  surrender  in  despair. 

Matthew  Woods. 
Philadelphia,  Pa.,  February  lo,  ipij* 


XV 


IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

JULIUS  CiESAR 

CHAPTER  I 

The  presentation  of  these  characterizations  is  in- 
tended as  a  protest  against  the  popular  view  regard- 
ing the  epileptic :  namely, —  that  he  is  either  a  man  no 
longer  in  the  race,  or  by  reason  of  physical  limitations 
necessarily  relegated  to  the  limbo  of  suspended  useful- 
ness, a  mere  tolerated  evil,  because  of  his  infirmity, 
hopelessly  incapable  of  taking  care  of  himself,  and 
sooner  or  later,  unless  the  inheritor  of  adequate  for- 
tune, bound  to  become  a  burden  upon  the  State. 

The  fallacy  of  this  as  an  all-comprehending  theory 
has  been  demonstrated  by  history  again  and  again. 
For  all  epileptics  have  not  only  not  been  burdens  upon 
the  State  or  the  family,  but  to  the  contrary,  by  the 
mere  might  of  great  and  varied  capacity,  just  as  the 
unafflicted,  some  of  them  have  created  and  maintained 
States,  conquered  nations,  established  systems  of  re- 
ligion, and  painted  masterful  pictures.  They  have 
also  been  prominent  in  literary  epochs,  and  have  oc- 
cupied high  positions  in  many  of  the  other  walks  of 
life.  This,  we  admit,  is  not  the  rule;  but  it  has  oc- 
curred frequently  enough  to  limit  at  least  the  plenary 
infallibility  of  the  popular  opinion. 

The  author  is  convinced  of  the  injustice  of  this 
tacit  declaration,   if  he  may  be  allowed  the   use   of 

17 


i8  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

paradox,  on  the  part  of  the  medical  as  well  as  lay  com- 
munity who  brand  all  epileptics  as  derelicts,  because 
he  personally  knows  many  epileptics  who  do  their  use- 
ful life  work  with  credit  to  themselves  and  benefit  to 
the  community.  Because  a  man  occasionally  responds 
by  a  few  minutes  of  unconsciousness  or  convulsions 
to  certain  known  or  unknown  or  but  vaguely  con- 
jectured causes,  just  as  others  respond  by  headache, 
neuralgia,  rheumatism,  and  the  like,  to  certain  un- 
discovered or  but  conjectured  condition,  is  no  reason 
why  the  one  should  be  regarded  with  almost  super- 
stitious awe  and  alarm,  looked  upon  askance,  discour- 
aged out  of  the  sunlight  of  beneficent  work  into  re- 
tirement and  inactivity,  compelled  to  live  under  a 
timid  assumption  of  health,  for  fear  of  eliciting  an- 
tagonism and  terror,  while  the  other,  the  man,  for 
example,  with  a  three  or  four  hour  attack  of  incapaci- 
tating headache  every  week,  may  declare  his  con- 
dition without  fear  of  compromising  himself.  If  he 
does  not  declare  his  condition  with  the  expectation 
of  polite  sympathy  he  may  at  least  do  so  with  im- 
punity. The  fact  is  that  the  person  with  periodic 
headache  ought  to  be  the  one  to  hesitate  about  hazard- 
ing publicity,  because  his  sickness  may  be  the  result  of 
avoidable  indiscretion  or  excess.  His  headache,  like 
dyspepsia,  may  be  but  the  remorse  of  a  guilty  stomach, 
while  epilepsy  is  not  always  avoidable,  because  it  is 
often  due  to  —  we  know  not  what.  In  some  cases 
one  no  more  unfits  a  man  for  duty  than  the  other. 
This  statement,  we  are  aware,  is  likely  to  be  ac- 


JULIUS  C^SAR  19 

cepted  with  a  shrug  of  incredulity,  but  it  is  never- 
theless true. 

We  believe  the  time  may  come,  because  of  a  higher 
state  of  hygienic  enlightenment,  when  every  acquired 
or  created  disease  will  be  regarded  as  a  disgrace  in- 
stead of  as  it  sometimes  is  now, —  a  thing  to  conjure 
with,  an  assumed  state,  put  on  at  times,  as  you  put  on  a 
garment  of  occasion,  to  elicit  interest  or  as  a  cover  for 
the  breaking  of  an  engagement  or  the  neglect  of  a 
duty.  So  much  are  we  convinced  of  the  immorality 
of  many  of  our  common  ailments  that  in  regard  to  at 
least  one  of  them, —  smallpox, —  we  have  been  teach- 
ing for  years  that  the  sane  adult  who  allows  himself 
or  his  children  to  contract  such  an  easily  prevented 
ailment  as  this  is  by  vaccination,  instead  of  receiving 
sympathy,  ought  to  be  put  in  jail. 

But  to  return  to  the  subject.  Many  of  us  now  and 
then  encounter  epileptics  who  make  independent  liv- 
ings, occupy  positions  of  trust,  teach  in  schools  and 
colleges,  support  families,  manage  estates,  and  the  like, 
as  well  as  occupy  the  minor  places  of  life,  without  com- 
promising themselves  or  slighting  their  employment. 
One  of  the  best  wood-carvers  we  have  ever  known, — 
a  man  who  did  original  work  for  the  big  architects, 
supporting  a  wife  and  three  children, —  was  an  epi- 
leptic from  boyhood.  Another  attained  the  position 
of  governor  of  a  State.  Another  held  an  impor- 
tant legal  position  in  a  large  city,  was  a  prominent 
lawyer,  carrying  difficult  cases  to  successful  issues. 
Another  was  a  clergyman  of  powerful  intellect  and 


20  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

convincing  eloquence.  Another  was  a  voluminous 
author,  with  some  of  his  books  translated  into  for- 
eign tongues.  One  of  the  worst  examples  we  have 
ever  known  to  get  well,  a  man  who  in  fifty  years  had 
had  twenty-eight  thousand  convulsions,  besides  nu- 
merous psychic  attacks,  managed  his  own  ample  estate 
and  his  home  with  prudence.  This  of  course  was 
very  exceptional  as  was  also  his  complete  cure. 

It  would  be  possible,  we  imagine,  for  many  of  us 
to  select  from  our  own  case-books, —  especially  if  we 
followed  our  patients  into  their  private  lives, —  illus- 
trations just  as  interesting.  And  if  it  were  not  for 
the  misery-producing  bias  against  fits  we  could  give 
names  of  persons  who  in  spite  of  epilepsy  were  ef- 
ficient in  various  vocations. 

Many  distempers  are  objects  of  sympathetic  con- 
cern in  these  tolerant  days,  when  everybody  seems 
interested  in  the  study  of  medicine.  Yet,  notwith- 
standing the  fact  of  the  great  multitude  of  medical 
amateurs,  if  a  man  happens  to  be  a  victim  of  the 
malady  that  has  been  contemporary  with  all  ages,  if 
mentioned  at  all,  it  is  only  under  the  breath,  just  as  in 
the  days  of  rampant  superstition  when  to  be  an  epilep- 
tic was  to  be  possessed  of  demons.  Still,  although  a 
man  be  dead,  because  of  this  prejudice  it  is  not  well 
even  then  to  speak  of  him  by  name  as  a  victim  of  epi- 
lepsy for  fear  of  hurting  the  susceptibilities  of  sur- 
vivors. 

Of  epileptics  long  dead  we  may  speak  openly.  And 
the  three  men  of  supreme  intellect  whom  we  have 


JULIUS  C^SAR  21 

selected  as  illustrious  examples,  and  who  in  spite  of 
epilepsy  have  achieved  universal  prominence  in  the 
great  things  of  life,  the  things  worth  while,  we  need 
not  hesitate  to  bring  to  notice  by  name,  because  there 
is  no  possibility,  except  in  one  instance,  of  compro- 
mising their  descendants.  We  allude  to  Julius  Caesar, 
Mohammed,  and  Lord  Byron, —  the  founders,  respect- 
ively, of  an  Empire,  a  Religion,  and,  a  School  of 
Poetry. 


CHAPTER  II 

As  a  first  illustration  of  an  epileptic  with  every 
faculty  apparently  unimpaired,  we  will  begin  with 
Caesar.  According  to  Plutarch,  he  "  was  of  slender 
make,  fair  of  feature,  pale,  emaciated,  of  a  delicate 
constitution,  subject  to  severe  headache  and  violent 
attacks  of  epilepsy."  He  was  born  on  the  twelfth 
of  July,  about  one  hundred  years  before  the  birth  of 
Christ.  Even  in  his  seventeenth  year  he  was  so  con- 
spicuous a  person  that  he  broke  his  engagement  with 
one  woman,  although  she  was  of  consular  and  opulent 
family,  to  marry  another,  Cornelia,  daughter  of  the 
celebrated  Cinna.  In  consequence  of  this  alliance  he 
was  made  Flamen  Dialis,  or  priest  of  Jupiter,  an  of- 
fice which  with  this  exception  was  only  given  to  per- 
sons of  mature  years. 

It  is  singular  in  this  connection  that  of  the  three  per- 
sons we  have  selected  in  elucidation  of  our  theory,  the 
two  monogamous  men  were  notable  for  precocious 
love-affairs,  while  the  polygamous  one, —  Mohammed, 
— did  not  fall  in  love  until  his  twenty-ninth  year,  and 
then  with  a  quiet,  middle-aged  widow,  fifteen  years 
his  senior.  Unlike  the  other  two.  Christian  and  pagan, 
respectively,  he  lived  loyally  with  her  for  twenty-two 
years  —  until  her  death. 

So  important  as  a  prospective  enemy  was  Caesar 

22 


JULIUS  C^SAR  23 

even  then  that  the  dictator  Sulla  at  once  proscribed 
him.  Thus  outlawed,  a  boy,  yet  a  married  man,  he 
was  taken  ill,  it  would  seem,  with  a  series  of  epileptic 
convulsions, —  status  epilepticus, —  and  only  escaped 
death  while  fleeing  from  the  enemy  by  being  con- 
cealed as  an  invalid  in  a  litter. 

As  an  illustration  of  unconquerable  courage  and  of 
being  able  at  this  early  age  to  take  care  of  himself  is 
the  fact  that  during  this  period  of  outlawry  he  w^as 
captured  by  Cilician  pirates, —  men  who  thought  mur- 
der a  trifle, —  who  held  him  for  ransom.  He  re- 
mained with  them  a  prisoner  thirty-eight  days,  until 
his  ransom  came,  and  in  this  position  of  imminent 
danger  —  between  Scylla  and  Charybdis  —  he  showed 
heroic  coolness  and  courage.  His  captors  demanded 
twenty  talents  of  ransom.  He  laughed  at  the  small- 
ness  of  the  amount  and  insisted  on  its  being  fifty, — 
about  seventy-five  thousand  dollars. 

During  the  time  of  captivity,  instead  of  his  being 
in  a  state  of  intimidation,  as  might  be  supposed,  he 
seems  to  have  assumed  command  of  the  entire  band  of 
ship  scuttlers  and  cutthroats.  It  was  his  practice  then 
and  all  through  his  life  to  indulge  in  a  short  sleep 
after  dinner,  a  custom  which  he  characteristically  de- 
clined to  abandon,  even  when  under  the  dangerous 
condition  of  duress.  During  this  siesta  he  invariably 
insisted  on  silence,  and  otherwise  treated  his  custodians 
as  if  they  were  his  paid  body-guards  instead  of  his  cap- 
tors. He  joined  on  occasion  in  their  diversions,  and 
instead  of  spending  the  time  of  waiting  in  anxious  sus- 


24  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

pense  and  Idleness,  he  wrote  poems  and  orations,  re- 
hearsed them  to  his  captors,  and  when  they  failed  to 
show  appreciation  called  them  "  dunces  and  numskulls 
untouched  by  sentiment  or  intelligence." 

Although  his  genius  at  this  early  period  was  only 
evolving,  yet  so  attached  was  he  to  things  intellectual 
even  then,  so  devoted  to  the  extension  of  the  higher 
culture,  that  we  believe  he  would  even  have  started  a 
Browning  society  among  his  obsequious  yet  amused 
assassins,  if  Browning  had  been  sufficiently  previous. 

Can  we  not  imagine  after  the  labor  of  the  day  his 
surprised  and  subdued  jailors  sitting  around  with  their 
hands  in  their  pockets, —  if  they  had  pockets  in  those 
days  of  the  toga  and  seminakedness, —  while  their 
youthful  prisoner  declaimed  orations  to  them  to  the 
accompaniment  of  brine-laden  breezes,  or  breathed  into 
their  hairy  ears  love  poems  and  sonnets  by  way  of 
contrast?  Is  it  possible  for  an  extravagant  imagina- 
tion to  conceive  anything  more  incongruous?  He 
even  threatened  to  crucify  his  captors,  a  favored  di- 
version in  those  dear  old  days,  if  they  did  not  pay  him 
proper  deference.  They,  the  historian  tells  us,  looked 
upon  it  all  as  a  joke.  This  boy  captive  threatened  his 
not  too  captivating  captors  with  capital  punishment 
until  after  his  release,  when  collecting  a  fleet  of  ships 
at  Miletus,  he  did  return,  and  took  them  prisoners. 
He  also  took  all  their  valuables,  including  the  money 
paid  for  his  own  ransom,  and  actually  did  crucify  at 
Pergamos  all  the  prisoners  he  had  taken,  according  to 
promise.     He  never  failed  to  keep  his  word. 


JULIUS  C^SAR  25 

His  insistence  on  their  demanding  a  larger  ransom 
was  not  so  bad  —  for  an  epileptic.  Prudence  ever  thus 
commands  the  forces  of  the  future. 

Yet  we  are  told  that  Caesar  was  not  cruel,  that  this 
was  but  mere  playfulness,  like  a  kitten  with  a  mouse, 
or  a  terrier  with  a  rat,  that  he  only  had  that  disregard 
for  human  life  which  was  of  the  period  rather  than  of 
the  man.  In  spite  of  this  vindictiveness  as  a  boy,  he 
subsequently  in  his  victories  exercised  great  clemency 
for  those  times,  when  no  quarter  was  shown  the  van- 
quished. So  noted  for  clemency  was  he  that  he  was 
called  by  way  of  distinction  **  the  lenient  conqueror." 
In  the  cutting  of  the  throats  even  of  friends  in  those 
barbarous  days  there  seems  to  have  been  no  "  compunc- 
tious visitings  of  conscience,"  not  even  regret;  indeed 
conscience  seems  to  be  a  modern  invention,  anyhow. 

After  this  boyish  escapade  Caesar  went  to  Rhodes 
to  study  rhetoric,  having  as  fellow-students  Cicero 
and  Mark  Antony,  and  was  so  successful  as  a  student 
that  he  afterward  became  known  as  the  second  orator 
of  Rome,  only  because  Cicero  was  the  first.  In  spite 
of  his  infirmity  and  semi-invalidism,  success  in  any 
career  seemed  possible  to  him,  for  he  had  excessive 
persistence  and  seems  to  have  been  among  the  earliest 
of  those  who  lived  actively  and  simultaneously  the 
physical  and  the  intellectual  life,  a  commendable  but 
rare  combination.  Upon  his  return  from  his  studies 
he  impeached  Dolabella  for  misdemeanor  in  of^ce,  and 
Publius  Antonius  for  corruption,  and  was  so  convinc- 
ing as  a  pleader  that  the  defendants  were  compelled 


26  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

to  appeal  to  the  tribunes  of  the  people.  This  he  did 
merely  by  way  of  trying  his  forensic  wings,  and  to 
show  that  his  oratory,  unlike  the  ordinary  sort,  was 
more  than  vocabulary. 

Plutarch  tells  us  that  the  eloquence  he  exhibited  in 
Rome  in  also  defending  persons  implicated  in  crime 
gained  for  him  a  considerable  interest.  His  sword 
was  double-edged.  His  engaging  address  and  con- 
servatism carried  the  heart  of  the  people,  *'  for  he  had 
a  condescension  to  his  elders  not  to  be  expected  in  so 
young  a  man."  What  our  Jeremiahs  lament  as  the 
lost  art  of  deferential  respect  for  the  white  head  seems 
by  this  time  to  have  extended  to  the  Imperial  City, 
since  this  solitary  instance  of  the  opposite  was  excep- 
tional enough  to  be  put  upon  record. 

We  ourselves  never  could  see  that  there  was  any- 
thing specially  honorable  in  gray  locks,  rather  there  is 
dishonor  in  them  unless  their  owner  has  done  some- 
thing commendable  during  his  evidently  long  life. 
The  frosty  pole  does  not  always  imply  venerableness, 
often  the  opposite.  We  know  the  possessors  of  not  a 
few  such  who  ought  rather  to  be  tarred  and  feathered 
than  revered, —  wretches,  decrepit  in  iniquity,  their 
white  heads  but  emphasizing  protracted  depravity,  a 
flag  of  but  pretentious  truce  floating  over  impotent 
and  incapable  tyranny.  When  gray  hair  means  a  life 
spent  in  the  service  of  man  it's  different. 

But  to  return  to  Caesar.  He  jilted  the  first  woman 
he  was  engaged  to,  although  she  was  of  powerful 
family,  and  he  divorced  the  next  one,  Cornelia, —  the 


JULIUS  C^SAR  ^^ 

divorce  is  not  an  American  invention, —  not  because 
she  was  guilty  but  because  she  was  accused  of  guilt. 
"  Caesar's  wife,"  he  said,  "  must  be  above  suspicion." 
He  pronounced  publicly,  contrary  to  custom,  heart- 
rending panegyrics  over  his  next  two  wives,  then  re- 
tired with  his  varied  wedlock  experiences  into  well- 
earned  freedom,  where  he  remained,  with  the  exception 
of  a  few  lapses,  during  the  remainder  of  his  life. 

We  have  wondered  why  Balzac  in  his  book,  '^  The 
Petty  Annoyances  of  Married  Life,"  did  not  mention 
Caesar  among  his  illustrations,  with  his  varied  nuptial 
experiences  and  personal  knowledge  of  the  subject  of 
"  how  to  be  happy  though  married."  If  he  had  in- 
cluded him  among  his  examples  of  gracious  submission 
to  petty  domestic  annoyances  he  would,  we  imagine, 
have  shown  the  justice  of  adding  at  least  another  leaf 
to  the  laurel  crown  that  covered  the  bald  head  of  our 
hero.  It  would  be  of  interest,  too,  to  know  with  what 
degree  of  tolerance  his  various  wives  regarded  his 
convulsions,  and  how  the  community  regarded  them, — 
what  effect,  for  instance,  Caesar's  last  fit  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  delegates  was  likely  to  have  on  the  coming 
election.  If  at  a  public  gathering  in  ancient  Rome  a 
man  happened  to  have  a  convulsion,  no  matter  how 
important  the  meeting,  it  was  immediately  dispersed. 
And  how  were  his  soldiers  affected  by  their  com- 
mander's having  a  seizure  at  the  beginning  of  a  cam- 
paign, at  the  end  of  a  battle,  or  while  making  love, 
after  the  pagan  custom  of  the  period,  to  a  brand-new 
sweetheart  ? 


28  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

In  some  of  our  States  epilepsy  is  a  cause  for  divorce. 
Caesar,  the  epileptic,  to  the  contrary,  bounced  the  non- 
epileptic. 

To  be  just  and  generous  we  must  give  Caesar 
credit  for  never  having  cut  off  the  heads  of  his 
discredited  waives  as  our  burly  "  Defender  of  the 
Faith  "  did.  He  more  humanely,  perhaps,  gave  them 
legal  authority  to  marry  again,  so  that  he  gained  their 
respect  rather  than  incurred  their  displeasure. 

He  contracted  debts  equal  to  a  million  and  a  half 
dollars  before  getting  remunerative  employment,  and 
when  elected  edile^  not  only  paid  for  the  contests  of 
three  hundred  and  twenty  pairs  of  gladiators  with 
other  people's  money, —  a  custom  it  would  seem  still  in 
vogue, — but  in  all  other  diversions  outdid  precedent. 
To  paraphrase  from  Sir  Joshua,  was  ever  epileptic  so 
trusted  ? 

He  would  seem  to  have  rested  but  little  either  day 
or  night.  Continuing  rapidly  from  one  point  of  po- 
litical importance  to  another  at  last  he  united  with 
Pompey  and  Cassius,  forming  the  alliance  known  as  the 
First  Triumvirate,  and  obtained  for  himself  by  popular 
vote  governmental  control  in  Cisalpine  Gaul,  Trans- 
alpine Gaul,  and  Illyricum. 

Both  by  valor  and  eloquence  he  thus  obtained  the 
highest  reputation  in  the  field  and  in  the  Senate. 
"  Beloved  and  esteemed  by  his  fellow-citizens,"  writes 
Suetonius,  "  he  enjoyed  successively  every  magisterial 
and  military  honor  the  state  could  give,  consistent  with 
its  constitution.'' 


JULIUS  C^SAR  29 

Thus  this  man, —  who  was  an  exquisite,  a  poHtician, 
a  poet,  an  orator,  a  married  man,  and  an  epileptic 
at  eighteen,  and  a  universal  conqueror  and  master  in  lit- 
[erature,  oratory,  and  statesmanship  at  forty, —  instead 
of  being*  a  burden  upon  the  state,  or  a  menace  to  the 
prosperity  of  his  family,  enriched  the  state  by  invading 
and  making  tributary  foreign  powers  without  appar- 
ently making  enemies  of  the  vanquished,  a  feat  in  itself, 
extended  its  dominion,  increased  its  influence,  and  at 
last,  as  Cassius  said,  "  had  grown  so  great  that  he  be- 
strode the  narrow  world  like  a  colossus,"  and  scorned 
to  have  a  rival  in  the  management  of  the  whole  earth. 

Says  Mark  Antony,  who  had  evidently  seen  him  in 
convulsions :  "  When  the  fit  was  on  I  marked  how  he 
did  shake;  'tis  true  this  god  did  shake."  Again,  "  Ye 
gods,  it  doth  amaze  me  a  man  of  such  a  feeble  temper 
should  so  get  the  start  of  the  majestic  world  and  bear 
the  palm  alone." 

This,  to  be  sure,  is  but  Shakespeare ;  but  it  is  true  to 
the  facts  as  recorded  by  historians. 

We  would  hardly  recommend  horseback  riding  to 
an  epileptic,  "  but  by  dint  of  perseverance,"  says  the 
historian  Oppius,  ''  Caesar  became  an  expert  horseman, 
often  dictating  to  two  or  three  secretaries  at  once  while 
in  the  saddle,  and  rode  without  using  his  hands,"  which 
we  are  assured  he  could  do  with  his  horse  at  full  speed. 
We  would  have  thought  this  statement  fabulous,  the 
friendly  exaggeration  of  an  ardent  admirer,  but  we 
have  had  a  somewhat  similar  experience  in  our  own 
practice.     Mr.  A.  H.,  of  Germantown,  Pa.,  had  con- 


30  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

vulsions  daily  for  many  years,  and  during  the 
time  he  was  undergoing  care  at  our  hands  insisted  on 
taking  up  as  an  occupation  the  "  breaking  "  of  wild 
western  horses,  a  practice  that  he  followed,  as  Caesar 
did  horseback  riding,  without  accident.  For  the  last 
four  years  this  gentleman,  unlike  Caesar,  has  given  up 
both  epilepsy  and  horse-training. 

It  was  Caesar,  too, —  for  his  genius  was  inventive  as 
well  as  military, —  who  first  wrote  personal  letters  to 
people  living  in  the  same  city,  in  order  to  expedite 
business,  thus  avoiding  the  ordinary  flippancies  and 
other  impedimenta  of  personal  interview. 

The  reader,  we  trust,  will  excuse  these  prolixities. 
They  seem  to  us  necessary  in  order  to  exhibit  the  ac- 
tivity even  in  minutiae  of  unimpaired  faculty  running 
parallel  with  a  serious  nervous  diseasje,  and  also  to 
show  that  heroism  and  a  life  of  toil,  hardship,  and  mul- 
tifarious accomplishments  are  not  inconsistent  with  un- 
complicated epilepsy,  or  even  with  epilepsy  complicated 
with  other  diseases  as  this  was.  It  is  necessary,  too, 
to  give  details  in  order  to  be  in  a  position  to  encourage 
epileptics,  even  when  they  cannot  be  altogether  cured, 
to  feel  that  it  may  be  possible  in  spite  of  their  handicap 
to  outstrip  in  usefulness  those  who  started  with  them 
in  the  race  of  life. 

We  have  in  our  possession  the  school  certificate  of 
a  boy  who  four  years  ago  was  sent  to  us  by  a  brother 
physician  as  a  *'  nervous  wreck."  His  condition  was 
due  as  much  to  enforced  idleness,  exemption  from 
study,  and  artificially  engendered  fear  as  it  was  to  con- 


JULIUS  C^SAR  31 

viilsions.  Although  he  averaged  eight  convulsions  a 
month,  we  recommended  his  being  returned  to  school 
and  being  put  merely  on  a  controlled  diet,  v^ith  treat- 
ment to  counteract  dietary  and  other  errors.  The  re- 
sult was  that  the  patient  skipped  a  whole  division  in  his 
studies  and  has  had  but  one  convulsion  since  he  came 
to  us,  which  was  due  to  dietary  disobedience.  He  was 
admitted  last  September  into  the  Southern  Manual 
Training  School  without  examination,  and  although 
absent  three  wxeks  because  of  other  sickness,  he  re- 
ceived, as  may  be  shown,  the  following  certificate: 
"  English,  Latin,  History,  Algebra,  German,  Science, 
Constructive  Drawing,  Free-hand  Drawing,  Joining, 
Tinsmithing,  Penmanship,  Commercial  Arithmetic, — 
satisfactory  in  every  respect." 

This  boy,  six  feet  two  inches  tall,  in  his  eighteenth 
year,  who  has  now  gone  four  years  and  six  months 
without  convulsions  or  other  signs  of  epilepsy,  has 
escaped  forever  being  discouraged  by  sympathetic 
friends  into  perpetual  ignorance  and  uselessness,  which 
is  the  next  thing  to  if  not  worse  than  death. 

It  is  because  of  the  lack  of  proper  management 
rather  than  of  medication  that  the  ordinary  reflex 
convulsions  of  childhood  and  adolescence  sometimes 
develop  into  epilepsy.  Skillful  hygienic  and  psychic 
surveillance  of  such  children  without  much  medicine 
would  often  prevent  such  patients  from  acquiring  the 
epileptic  habit,  for  it  does  sometimes  appear  as  an  ac- 
quired habit,  especially  in  cases  of  high-strung  hysteri- 
cal persons.     Again  it  may  be  intercurrent;  that  is  to 


32  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

say,  coming  in  the  wake  of  some  previously  present 
disease  or  condition,  the  removal  of  which  cures  the 
epilepsy. 

But  to  return  again  to  our  waiting  Caesar.  He 
never  but  once  made  his  infirmity  an  excuse  for  any- 
thing that  happened  or  a  reason  for  the  avoidance  of 
duty,  as  he  might  have  done. 

Even  when  he  came  to  unbridged  rivers  during  his 
campaigns  he  swam  across  them,  sometimes  helped 
by  inflated  bladders,  but  usually  unaided.  Once,  hav- 
ing a  seizure  in  the  water,  he  cried  out,  you  remember, 
"  Help  me,  Cassius,  or  I  perish !  " 

He  explored  personally  and  afoot  conquered  cities, 
accompanied  by  way  of  precaution  by  but  one  or  two 
servants, —  an  admirable  precaution  for  epileptics, 
when  at  all  possible.  If  the  company  of  a  servant  or 
friend  is  not  available,  then  epileptics  should  always 
carry  a  card  in  their  wallet,  giving  name  and  address 
and  announcing  the  particulars  of  their  ailment.  Be- 
cause of  not  having  taken  this  precaution  many  an  in- 
nocent person,  in  spite  of  incoherent  remonstrance,  has 
been  marched  off  to  a  police  station  and  locked  up  with 
criminals.  This  is  more  likely  to  occur  after  the  con- 
vulsion, when  the  patient,  having  regained  the  upright 
position,  attempts  to  walk.  The  unsteady  gait,  vacant 
gaze,  disordered  and  soiled  clothing,  are  so  suggestive 
of  helpless  intoxication  that  you  can  hardly  expect  the 
officer,  even  with  best  intentions,  to  distinguish  be- 
tween inebriety  and  the  immediate  sequelae  of  an  at- 
tack of  epileptic  convulsions. 


JULIUS  C^SAR  33 

As  an  illustration  of  his  rapidity  of  movement,  at 
the  battle  of  Thrapsus  when  Scipio  was  constructing 
ramparts  Caesar  made  his  way  into  an  almost  impene- 
trably wooded  country  and  utterly  routed  him,  putting 
the  whole  army  of  this  experienced  veteran  to  flight. 
And  as  if  that  were  not  enough  for  one  day,  he  took 
the  entire  camp  of  Afranius,  destroyed  that  of  the 
Numidians,  their  King  Jubba  barely  escaping  with  his 
life,  and  thus  in  twenty-four  hours  made  himself  the 
master  of  three  camps,  with  their  enormous  booty  in 
silver  and  gold,  killed  fifty  thousand  of  the  enemy,  with 
a  loss  to  himself  of  only  fifty  men. 

After  this  battle,  w^hile  drawing  up  his  army  and 
giving  orders,  he  had  an  attack,  Plutarch  tells  us,  of 
*' his  old  distemper" — and  do  you  wonder?  Before 
it  had  time  to  overpower  him,  he  directed  his  men, 
Plutarch  continues,  to  carry  him  to  a  neighboring 
tower  until  the  fit  was  over. 

He  seems  usually  to  have  had  premonitions  of  his 
seizures,  and  must  also  have  connected  them  with 
either  gastric  or  intestinal  disturbance,  as  indicated 
also  in  the  case  of  Lord  Byron,  hence  his  excessive 
abstemiousness,  except  on  rare  occasions.  Yet,  in 
spite  of  all,  during  his  life  he  won  and  put  upon  record 
three  hundred  and  twenty  triumphs,  to  say  nothing  of 
his  orations,  his  history,  and  the  number  of  destroyed 
cities  he  rebuilt. 


CHAPTER  III 

"  C^SAR,"  says  M.  Ophelott, —  see  his  Melanges 
PhilosophiqueSj — "  had  one  predominant  passion.  It 
was  love  of  glory;  and  he  passed  forty  years  of  his 
life  in  seeking  opportunities  to  foster  and  encourage  it. 
His  soul,  entirely  absorbed  in  ambition,  did  not  open 
itself  to  other  impulses." 

This  opinion,  notwithstanding  the  fact  of  Caesar's 
having  extravagantly  declared  that  he  "  would  rather 
be  first  in  a  village  than  second  in  Rome,"  has  been 
rejected  by  subsequent  writers. 

"  We  must  not  imagine,"  says  the  same  writer,  *'  that 
Caesar  w^as  born  a  warrior  as  Sophocles  and  Milton 
were  born  poets,  for  if  nature  had  made  him  a  citizen 
of  Syria,  he  would  have  been  the  most  voluptuous 
of  men."  '^  If  in  our  day  he  had  been  born  in  Penn- 
sylvania, he  w^ould  have  been  the  most  inoffensive  of 
Quakers  and  would  not  have  disturbed  the  tranquillity 
of  the  New  World."  He  continues,  "  Nature  formed 
in  the  same  mould  Caesar,  Mahomet,  Cromwell,  and 
Kublai-Khan!  Had  Caesar  been  placed  in  Persia,  he 
would  have  made  the  conquest  of  India;  in  Arabia, 
he  would  have  been  the  founder  of  a  new  religion;  in 
London,  he  would  have  stabbed  his  sovereign  or  pro- 
cured his  assassination  under  the  sanction  of  law." 

Such  conjectures  are  gratuitous,  and  might  be  con- 
tinued about  any  prominent  man  endlessly,   but,   as 

34 


JULIUS  C^SAR  35 

the  old  lady,  old  in  wretchedness,  said  about  sympathy : 
"  It  cost  nothing  and  is  good  for  nothing." 

We  will  say  nothing  about  Caesar's  conquests  in 
Britain  and  Gaul  and  of  his  Commentaries  telling  about 
them  for  fear  of  harrowing  up  old  sorrows  and  renew- 
ing again  the  wretchedness  of  our  otherwise  happy 
youth,  for  we  cannot  all  agree  with  what  George  Bar- 
row, in  "  Lavengro,"  said  of  Old  Parr,  "  He  flogged 
Greek  and  Latin  into  me  until  I  loved  him." 

You  remember  how  Caesar  constructed  the  supposed 
impossibility  of  a  bridge  across  the  rapidly  running 
Rhine  in  ten  days,  and  created  a  buttressed  barrier 
above  it  to  break  its  destructive  current ;  how  with  rude, 
untutored  soldiers  he  did  it,  and  how  it  took  us  longer 
to  read  intelligently  his  concise  account  of  the  engineer- 
ing feat  than  it  did  him  to  make  a  way  for  his  army 
across  the  otherwise  impassable  river.  It  was  Heine, 
while  a  student,  who  said :  "  I  know^  now  why  the 
ancient  Romans  accomplished  so  much  —  some  of 
them,  too,  before  they  had  attained  manhood.  It  was 
because  they  did  not  have  to  stop  on  the  way  to  study 
Latin." 

Both  by  accomplishment  and  affability,  notwith- 
standing M.  Ophelott's  strictures,  our  hero  won  all 
hearts.  His  consideration  for  people  was  familiar, 
almost  fatherly.  He  was  said  to  have  known  per- 
sonally every  soldier  in  his  army  and  to  have  been 
able  to  call  each  of  them  by  name.  He  was  interested 
in  their  recreations  as  well  as  in  their  capacity  for 
effective  work,  and  at  least  on  one  occasion  participated 


36  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

personally  in  their  sports.  People  were  attracted  to 
him  as  the  seed  of  the  bulrush  is  attracted  to  water. 

Even  his  quondam  enemy  Cleopatra,  after  he  had 
conquered  Greece  and  reduced  Egypt,  learning  that  he 
desired  to  see  her,  instead  of  waiting  for  him  to  make 
at  least  the  first  call,  as  a  modest  young  lady  should, 
got  into  a  boat  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening  —  without 
even  a  chaperone,  think  of  it!  — and  made  for  his 
quarters,  taking  with  her  but  one  attendant.  Realiz- 
ing soon  the  difficulty  of  entering  the  palace  unde- 
tected, she  had  her  companion,  Appolodore,  roll  her  up 
in  a  carpet,  like  a  bale  of  rugs,  and  carry  her  on  his 
back  through  the  gates  to  Caesar.  It  was  because  of 
this  comic  opera  stratagem  and  the  charm  and  beauty 
of  her  conversation  —  they  both  spoke  Greek  —  and 
not  because  of  any  ordinary  affair  of  state,  as  the 
merely  materialistic  historian  believes  who  thinks  there 
is  no  truth  but  facts,  that  caused  Caesar  afterward  to 
insist  on  her  ruling  with  him.  The  subsequent  birth 
of  their  daughter  Caesario  showed  how  invincible  he 
was  both  in  love  and  in  war. 

Can  you  not  imagine,  then,  with  the  effect  of  this 
brilliant  epileptic's  achievements  extending  over  the 
civilized  world,  how  different  it  might  have  been  with 
us,  even  in  far  away  America,  if  when  a  boy  his  mother 
had  put  him  as  unfit  for  life  into  a  sanitarium  for  epi- 
leptics, or  if  the  family  physician  had  drenched  and 
stupefied  him  daily  with  saturated  solutions  of  bro- 
mide of  potassium?  It  would  have  changed  the  face 
of  history  and  made  many  of  the  great  events  of  the 
modern  world  impossible. 


CHAPTER  IV 

In  exhibiting  the  mental  inventory  of  a  man,  in 
order  to  know  him  really,  it  is  necessary,  as  we  have 
intimated  before,  to  include  among  the  greater  things 
the  minutiae,- — little  personal  peculiarities,  eccentrici- 
ties, pastimes,  how  he  acts  while  pursuing  the  even 
tenor  of  his  way  as  well  as  during  the  torrents,  the 
tempests,  and  we  might  say  the  whirlwinds  of  his  life, 
the  addictions  of  his  spare  moments,  what  he  does 
when  at  leisure,  and  the  like. 

A  man's  profession  or  occupation  may  be  an  acci- 
dent, or  selected  without  his  volition,  because  of 
family  interest  or  preference.  He  may  have  been 
coerced  into  a  vocation  by  peculiar  circumstances ;  but 
his  pastimes,  the  predilections  of  his  leisure,  the  em- 
ployments of  a  man's  spare  moments,  may  tell  more 
about  him  than  the  more  conspicuous  activities  of  his 
public  career.  We  labor  often  at  uncongenial  tasks 
that  we  may  afterward  pursue  our  heart's  desire,  to 
obtain  leisure  and  means  for  private  pursuits  being 
often  but  the  ultimatum  of  public  effort. 

Who  does  not  know  Luther  better  in  his  "  Table 
Talk  "  than  in  his  *'  Sermons  "  and  the  belligerencies 
of  his  turbulent  life?  Selden's  "  Discourses  "  present 
a  truer  picture  of  the  man, —  his  wit,  learning,  credu- 
lity, logical  reasoning,  and  scholarly  versatility, —  than 


38  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

could  any  record  of  his  public  works.  The  ''  Golden 
Book "  of  Marcus  Aurelius  reveals  his  spiritual 
preferences  and  character  better  than  the  most  stately 
history  could  without  them.  Ben  Jonson's  "  Tim- 
ber '"  is  perhaps  more  self-revealing,  especially  in  his 
attitude  toward  his  contemporaries,  than  his  serious 
life-work.  More's  "  Utopia,"  the  work  of  his  leisure, 
makes  known  more  of  the  inner  man,  his  real  con- 
victions and  aspirations,  than  any  public  life  could. 
And  Malory's  ''La  Morte  D'Arthur,"  while  talking 
seriously  of  legends,  teaches  more  than  Malory,  folk- 
lore, the  manners  and  customs  of  his  time,  and  it  also 
teaches  more  history  than  would  many  stately  tomes 
devoted  to  that  noble  science. 

Grote  and  Rogers  were  bankers  that  they  might  be, 
respectively,  historian  and  poet;  Hugh  Miller  worked 
at  stone-cutting  that  he  might  become  a  geologist; 
Spinoza  was  a  polisher  of  lenses  in  order  to  dedicate 
his  leisure  to  philosophy;  Hunter  practiced  medicine  to 
gain  the  guinea  that  enabled  him  to  devote  his  day 
to  research ;  Elihu  Burrit  worked  as  a  blacksmith  that 
he  might  in  his  privacy  study  languages.  It  is  by  his 
*'  Hesperides  "  and  "  Noble  Numbers,"  and  not  by  his 
sermons,  that  we  know  the  clergyman  Herrick;  Sir 
John  Lubbock  is  discovered  in  "  The  Pleasures  of 
Life,"  the  work  of  learned  leisure,  rather  than  by  his 
commercial  successes,  his  legitimate  life-work,  and 
Goethe  reveals  himself  more  in  "  Gesprache  mit. 
Goethe  "  of  Eckermann  rather  than  in  -his  proclaimed 
productions  for  the  people. 


JULIUS  C^SAR  39 

We  remember  coming  across  an  expression  some- 
where, perhaps  in  Plutarch,  about  Cicero, —  that  in 
walking  he  clasped  his  fingers  behind  his  back,  and 
that  they  were  always  nervously  twitching,  as  if  em- 
phasizing we  then  supposed  the  telling  parts  of  some 
prospective  oration  against  Mark  Antony, —  and 
these  orations,  by  the  way,  were  the  cause  of  his  death. 
And  this  simple  fact,  or  some  personal  revelation  in 
some  of  his  writings,  has  added  to  our  knowledge 
of  the  man  who  at  the  age  of  sixteen  assumed  "  the 
manly  gown,"  and  who  was  made  rich  by  the  un- 
paralleled gifts  of  clients  and  admirers,  most  of  whom 
did  not  wait  until  their  death  to  show  their  apprecia- 
tion. Yet  he  regarded  life  as  the  mere  moving  of  a 
weaver's  shuttle,  not  aware  of  the  design  upon  which 
it  was  working,  and  he  confessed  even  in  the  zenith 
of  his  fame  that  he  did  not  know  which  was  best,  life 
or  death. 

It  is  thus  the  casual  and  unpremeditated,  the  mere 
whims  and  eccentricities,  the  private  acts  and  words 
spoken  in  house-coat  and  slippers,  and  not  always  the 
moment  when  men  are  bending  themselves  with  valor 
against  the  obstinate  tasks  of  life,  that  tell  of  the  real 
man.  ''  The  little  folly,"  Shakespeare  says,  "  that  wise 
men  do  make  a  great  show." 

In  justification,  then,  of  our  interest  in  trifling  per- 
sonal peculiarities  as  indication  of  the  pan-sanities 
of  life  we  may  say  with  Terence,  Homo  sum:  humani 
a  me  nihil  alicniim  piito. 

Apologizing  for  keeping  the  subject  of  our  review 


40  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

waiting  in  our  anteroom,  as  Chesterfield  kept  Dr.  John- 
son, while  attending  to  less  worthy  visitors,  as  a 
patient  of  distinction,  we  will  take  his  temperature, 
percuss  and  oscult  him  once  more,  or  like  a  lovingly 
edited  book,  pick  him  up  again  for  more  careful  re- 
vision. 

Although  by  no  means  a  valetudinarian,  yet  in  every 
way  Caesar  was  careful  of  his  health  and  the  cosmetic 
management  of  his  body,  even  to  the  point  of  squeam- 
ishness,  else  his  infirmity  might  have  cut  short  his 
career  or  diminished  its  brilliancy.  He  needed  to  be 
careful.  If  he  had  lived  in  the  gluttonous  days  of 
Caligula  or  Nero,  and  had  to  any  extent  indulged  in 
their  dietary  excesses,  he  never  would  have  crossed 
the  Rubicon  nor  effected  the  important  victory  over 
Pompey  the  Great  at  Pharsalia,  and  the  protests  of  his 
nervous  system  in  the  way  of  convulsions  would  have 
been  more  numerous. 

He  rather  confined  his  indulgencies  to  certain 
periods,  with  long  stretches  of  intervening  abstemi- 
ousness,—  see  Anthony  Trollope's  "  Caesar," —  and 
looked  after  his  body  with  the  strictest  exactitude. 

After  the  custom  of  the  period  among  persons  of 
his  class  he  perfumed  himself  sometimes  twice  daily, 
with  a  not  too  scrupulous  aid  of  his  attendant,  and  was 
as  careful  of  his  complexion  and  the  flexibility  of  his 
muscles  as  an  acrobat  or  ballet-dancer.  Just  the  mere 
act  of  living,  notwithstanding  the  delicacy  of  his  con- 
stitution, was  luxury  to  him,  and  the  exuberance  of 
the  bath  and  its  details,  pagan  that  he  was,  was  a  de- 


CxUUS  JULIUS  CESAR 

This   contemporary    portrait   of    Cssar,    for    which    in    all    prob- 
ability   he    sat,    is   very    interesting    because    it    unmistakably    ex- 
hibits the  Fades  Efilcfticus.      The   original  is  in  the   ^[useum  of 
Naples. 
Facing  p.  40. 


JULIUS  C^SAR  41 

light.  Unlike  certain  medieval  religionists,  who  re- 
garded bathing  wicked  and  immodest,  and  conse- 
quently never  resorted  to  it,  the  bath  was  one  of  his 
few  luxuries. 

He  paid  the  strictest  attention  to  his  hair,  although 
he  had  so  little  of  it.  In  spite  of  portraits  and  busts 
to  the  contrary  —  few  of  those  known  to  us  being  by 
contemporaries  —  it  only  grew  in  a  narrow  fringe  low 
down  on  the  back  of  his  head,  like  reversed  Gladstone 
or  John  Tyndall  whiskers,  instead  of  under  the  chin 
under  the  occiput.  Yet,  like  the  rest  of  the  bald- 
headed  the  world  over,  he  allowed  this  occipital  fringe 
to  grow  long,  and  boldly  combed  it  forward,  like  a 
vine  over  a  blank  wall,  in  the  vain  hope  of  concealing 
his  cranial  nakedness, —  the  touch  of  nature  that  makes 
the  whole  bald  world  kin.  Addison  poetically  said 
that  Caesar  being  bald  covered  his  head  with  laurels, 
and  he  was  even  vain  enough.  Gibbon  writes,  to  wear 
this  laurel  covering  in  public. 

The  care  he  exercised  toward  the  protection  of  the 
hair  of  his  head  he  extended  to  the  destruction  of  the 
superfluous  hair  of  his  body,  which  he  had  painfully 
removed,  like  a  Chinese  mandarin  or  a  North  Ameri- 
can Indian,  with  tweezers.  This  afforded  his  attend- 
ants of  the  bath  the  opportunity  of  rubbing  his  hair- 
denuded  cuticle  until  it  shone,  a  contemporary  said, 
"  like  alabaster  or  polished  marble." 

Suetonius  writes  of  "  the  shiny  whiteness  of  his 
ivory-tinted  epidermis,"  which  was  evidently  the 
anemia   of    his    disease,   and   the    *'  cheerfulness    and 


42  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

seemliness  of  his  well-groomed  features."  This 
phrase,  "  well-groomed,"  applied  to  the  masculine 
toilet,  as  you  see,  is  at  least  nineteen  hundred  years 
old. 

*'  He  was  more  economic  of  time,"  we  are  told, 
"than  of  money,"  and  recognized,  too,  at  this  primi- 
tive hygienic  age,  the  importance  of  proper  food  and 
rest. 

He  always,  as  you  may  remember,  took  a  nap  after 
dinner,  which  may  have  accounted  for  his  almost  uni- 
form affability  under  the  most  trying  circumstances, 
for  he  could  order  the  head  to  be  removed  from  the 
shoulders  of  an  old  friend  as  graciously  as  if  con- 
ferring a  favor.  He  had  so  many  projects  on  hand  at 
the  same  time  as  not  to  be  very  much  overwhelmed 
by  the  miscarriage  of  any  one  of  them,  a  thing  that 
very  seldom  happened.  And  although  he  was  so  ener- 
getic and  of  such  constant  activity,  unlike  most 
busy  men  he  was  nearly  all  the  time  leisurely  suave  and 
considerate  to  the  point  of  effeminacy. 

With  the  pavidity  of  a  supersensitive  woman  —  the 
part  of  his  make-up  emphasized  by  Donatello  in  his 
profile  portrait  —  he  had  the  fearless  courage  of  a 
lion.  He  was  without  a  thought  of  loss,  for  he  never 
failed  to  believe  in  himself.  He  feared  no  one,  not 
even  his  own  invincible  legions,  whom  he  would  turn 
upon  on  the  slightest  provocation,  quelling  rebellion 
by  a  phrase,  and  reducing  the  most  belligerent  to 
obedience  and  humiliation  by  a  word. 

In  the  Commentaries,  as  the  reader  knows,  he  al- 


JULIUS  C^SAR  43 

ways  speaks  of  himself  in  the  third  person,  Caesar, 
and  does  so  just  as  he  would  speak  of  anyone  else, 
not  boastingly,  but  simply  telling  of  his  own  exploits 
as  he  would  those  of  others.  And  he  does  it,  too,  in 
such  a  clear  and  concise  way  that  you  feel  that  he  is 
but  stating  the  truth  and  that  he  has  seen  and  ex- 
perienced all  he  expresses. 

The  Romans  were  cruel  beyond  the  credibility  of 
the  people  of  to-day,  who  regard  life  sacred  and  mur- 
der the  greatest  crime.  In  this  particular  Caesar  was 
also  guilty  to  a  frightful  extent;  yet  he  won,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  reputation  of  having  a  nature  of  un- 
usual clemency.  He  never,  though,  committed  mur- 
der, as  you  might  say  Nero  did,  for  the  love  of  it. 
He  slaughtered  none  but  for  policy;  yet  this  heroic 
man,  with  the  fantastic  delicacy  of  a  euphemistic  fe- 
male, put  to  death  hundreds,  whole  cities,  including 
women  and  children,  without  a  pang,  when  he  felt  it 
necessary  to  the  success  of  his  undertakings.  This 
was  not  because  of  his  being  an  epileptic.  It  was  the 
policy  and  practice  of  the  period,  and  he  did  not  al- 
ways rise  above  it.  We  say  the  ancients  were  cruel, 
and  pagans  pitiless,  but  were  they  more  so  than  the 
people  of  the  Middle  Ages,  when  the  world  was 
unitedly  Christian,  before  "  heresy "  split  it  into 
parts  ? 

It  was  in  the  "  Ages  of  Faith,"  not  before  Chris- 
tianity, that  ''  the  most  Christian  King  of  the 
Franks,"  Charlemagne,  after  one  battle  alone  put 
to    relentless    death     four    thousand    five    hundred 


44  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

cowed  captives  ''for  the  love  of  God/'  At  the  com- 
mand of  a  despot  as  implacable  as  himself  he  invaded 
without  cause  vast  territories,  compelling  the  inhabi- 
tants to  submit  either  to  death  or  baptism,  unmercifully 
pillaged  cities  and  set  fire  to  unarmed  villages,  sparing 
neither  age,  sex,  nor  condition.  Yet,  it  would  seem, 
because  he  could  write  Latin  and  speak  Greek  and 
even  ''  attempted  to  compose  a  grammar,"  and  besides 
"  opened  a  school  in  his  own  palace  for  the  education 
of  the  children  of  his  serv^ants  " —  many  of  them  were 
his  own,  for  continence  was  not  one  of  his  virtues 
—  subsequent  writers,  repeating  one  another  like  sheep 
in  an  only  trail,  have  called  him  "  good  and  great." 

Now  when  our  amiable  millionaires,  who  neither 
commit  murder  nor  arson,  but  to  the  contrary  endow 
colleges  and  erect  libraries,  hospitals  for  the  forlorn, 
and  homes  for  the  indigent,  the  people  that  praise 
Charlemagne  call  them  murderers  and  robbers. 

Thus  "  wisdom  and  goodness  to  the  vile  seem  vile  " 
and  scribbling  gentility  stultifies  itself  before  a  frown- 
ing Providence. 

No  man  ever  accomplished  more  in  his  own  person 
than  Caesar,  and  no  man  ever  did  so  many  things  so 
well,  outside  of  what  might  be  called  his  own  pro- 
fession,—  arms. 

He  not  only  created  and  personally  enlisted  his 
army,  but  literally  led  it.  Legion  and  legion  he  col- 
lected individually  by  the  force  of  his  own  character, 
and  he  personally  managed  the  distribution  of  the 
enormous  quantities  of  plunder,  with  which  he  allured 


JULIUS  C^SAR  45 

his  soldiers  to  abnormal  valor.  He  held  himself  also 
personally  responsible  for  every  detail  of  camp  life, 
and  at  the  same  time  managed  the  perplexing  politics 
of  Rome,  where  he  had  many  enemies,  among  them 
Pompey  the  Great,  his  son-in-law,  the  man  who,  some 
one  has  said,  got  up  the  first  "  corner  "  in  wheat,  which 
was  enough  without  anything  else  to  distinguish  him. 

From  the  beginning  of  the  Gallic  war  until  his  as- 
sassination he  was  fighting  for  his  life,  every  year  but 
one.  Yet  his  works,  including  his  history,  went  on; 
and  the  literary  style  of  it  was  so  fine,  indicating  per- 
sistent polishing,  that  it  elicited  praise  from  all  the 
great  critics  of  Rome,  at  a  time,  too,  when  concerning 
literature  Rome,  like  lago,  was  nothing  if  not  critical. 

In  those  days  when  literature  was  held  in  such  high 
esteem,  Cicero  wrote,  Vcrcor  uf  hoCj  quod  dicaui,  per- 
inde  intellegi  possit  audituni  atqiie  ipse  cogitans  sen- 
tio.  Sixteen  hundred  years  afterward,  Montaigne, 
who,  as  everybody  knows,  was  a  good  judge  of  Latin 
and  a  great  admirer  of  Csesar,  said,  "  I  read  this  au- 
thor with  somewhat  more  reverence  and  respect  than 
is  usually  allowed  human  writings,  at  one  time  con- 
sidering him  in  his  person  by  his  actions  and  mi- 
raculous greatness,  and  at  another  in  the  purity  and 
inimitable  polish  of  his  language  and  style,  wherein 
he  not  only  excels  all  other  historians,  as  Cicero  con- 
fesses, but  peradventure  even  Cicero  himself."  See 
Florio's  "  Montaigne,"  where  he  speaks  with  such  gar- 
rulous enthusiasm  about  the  great  Julius. 

Shakespeare,  who  seems  more  than  any  man  to  have 


46  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

been  dowered  with  omniscience,  makes  Cymbeline  say, 
"  We  may  have  many  Caesars,  but  never  another 
JuHus." 

In  contemplating  the  greatness  and  versatiHty  of  this 
man-elous  man  we  have  imagined,  as  hero-worshiper 
and  physician  ahke,  w'hat  an  honor  it  w^ould  have  been 
to  have  had  him  as  a  patient.  He  was  as  deferential 
to  his  medical  attendant  as  a  mediaeval  king  to 
his  confidential  poisoner,  when  everything  went  well; 
but  in  case  of  the  opposite  he  was  as  likely  to  call  to 
his  aid  his  private  and  particular  assassin  to  rid  him 
of  an  enemy  who  was  "  not  fit  to  doctor  a  cat."  For 
the  white  man  is  uncertain.  On  one  occasion  he  had 
a  servant  he  was  attached  to  instantly  put  to  death 
because  of  his  having  been  guilty  of  a  not  unusual 
breach  of  domestic  ethics. 

Yet  the  position  of  physician  might  have  been  dif- 
ferent and  worth  the  risk.  Think  of  its  glorious  func- 
tions !  —  advising  one  of  the  greatest  men  the  w^orld 
has  ever  known,  and  that  man  a  semi-invalid,  "  sicklied 
o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought,"  against  the  folly 
of  polypharmacy;  keeping  off  knavish  Augurs,  animal 
therapy  advocates,  and  nostrum  venders,  and  a  hun- 
dred best  cures  for  epilepsy,  '*  made  in  Germany," — 
protecting  him  against  the  allurements  of  specious 
quackery  in  any  form ;  traveling  with  him  through  con- 
quered cities,  getting  acquainted  with  unknown  cli- 
mates, manners,  customs,  meeting  barbarous  races  of 
men ;  aiding  Sallust,  or  whoever  he  was,  in  proof-read- 
ing the  Commentaries,  which  must  have  required  many 


JULIUS  C^SAR  47 

revisions  to  have  attained  their  present  precise  perfec- 
tion, facihtating  their  easier  interpretation  for  future 
schoolboys,  thus  adding  to  the  fehcity  of  unborn  na- 
tions, besides  participating  in  all  the  wild  exhilarating 
life  of  the  open  camp.  Perhaps,  too,  his  physician 
would  have  had  the  pleasure  of  spending  quiet  evenings 
with  him  in  the  companionship  of  the  few  intimates  he 
affected, —  orators,  artists,  literary  men,  philosophers. 
For,  as  well  as  fields  of  carnage  and  slaughter,  he  must 
have  had  gardens  of  the  Hesperides  too,  where  he  met 
his  friends,  and  talked  confidences,  and  expressed  and 
exhibited  affection.  Since  there  is  time,  there  must  be 
in  every  career  social  amenities  and  laughter  as  well 
as  tears,  asphodel  meadows  as  well  as  Gethsemanes. 


CHAPTER  V 

The  attention  given  by  Caesar  to  personal  adorn- 
ment may  be  considered  unworthy  of  so  great  a  man. 
During  the  time  of  the  **  Dedine  "  such  effeminacies 
as  we  have  enumerated  were  subjects  of  reprobation 
by  censors  and  poets  ahke.  Yet  it  was  the  custom  in 
those  days,  especially  among  persons  of  the  higher 
Roman  classes  who  were  still  greatly  influenced  by 
Greek  culture,  physical  and  otherwise,  and  Persian  too, 
perhaps,  to  regard  the  body  and  its  beauty  as  some- 
thing divine  and  demanding  sedulous  care  and  atten- 
tion. 

Cicero  and  many  prominent  Romans  were  by  educa- 
tion more  Greek  than  Roman.  The  gods  with  them 
were  always  beautiful,  if  not  always  exercising  beauti- 
ful restraint.  Yet  divinity  did  not  have  the  same 
meaning  then  as  now ;  it  was  altogether  anthropomor- 
phic. Their  deities,  too,  were  often  grossly  human, 
but  seldom  ugly :  Silenus,  Bacchus,  Sators,  and  Fauns, 
symbolizing  even  their  grossest  activities,  presented 
characteristic  comeliness. 

The  popular  question  then  was,  "  Is  it  beautiful?" 
Physical  beauty  justified  all  things,  even  immorality. 
Now  we  ask,  ''  Is  it  right?  " 

Then  the  aesthetic  occupied  the  prominent  place  in 
public  and  private  affairs;  now  the  ethical.     Then  it 

48 


JULIUS  C^SAR  49 

was  the  man  who  had  left  the  world  without  having 
seen  the  Jupiter  Olympus  of  Phidias  who  was  thought 
to  have  been  deprived  of  his  inheritance,  for  even  the 
sight  of  a  beautiful  object  was  an  asset  of  value;  now 
it  is  the  man  who  has  not  been  a  good  Samaritan,  who 
fails  to  exercise  the  altruistic  prerogative,  who  suffers 
loss.  Thus  are  illustrated  different  viewpoints, —  the 
one  an  inheritance  from  the  Greeks,  the  other  from  the 
Jews.  For  morality  as  we  understand  it,  as  we  have 
been  taught  by  the  chosen  people,  was  then  a  terra  in- 
cognita; the  moral  faculty  atrophied  for  lack  of  use, 
so  that  such  a  thing  as  a  passion  for  humanity  or 
righteousness  was  unknown,  or  almost  unknown. 

Mark  Antony  ordered  his  favorite  murderer, — 
about  to  start  in  pursuit  of  his  schoolfellow  and  former 
friend,- —  when  he  found  him  '*  to  cut  off  his  head  and 
hands  and  bring  them  to  him."  That  schoolfellow  and 
former  friend  was  the  fugitive  orator  and  author, 
Cicero, — ^that  same  Cicero  that  defended  the  cause  of 
Sicily  against  Verres,  and  that  was  but  a  few  days  be- 
fore the  darrling  of  the  people.  The  order  was  carried 
out,  and  the  head  and  hands  of  Cicero  were  brought  to 
Rome  and  treated  by  Antony  and  his  wife  with  bar- 
barous indignity,  without  eliciting  special  horror  or 
disapprobation. 

Now  if  a  man  cruelly  prolongs  the  death  of  a  rat 
he  is  put  in  prison  or  fined,  unless  he  be  a  king  of 
Belgium,  when  he  may  cut  off  human  hands  with  im- 
punity. 

The    best    people     in    those     days  —  see     Taine's 


50  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

''  L'Art  "  —  devoted  much  of  their  time  to  the  develop- 
ment of  personal  comeliness,  as  a  religious  duty.  The 
cultivation  of  the  beautiful  was  a  popular  science;  the 
different  parts  of  the  ideal  body  v^ere  reduced  to  defi- 
nite measurements,  a  standard  of  grace  was  imagined, 
the  attainment  of  which,  like  the  points  of  a  "  ten  thou- 
sand dollar  hen  "  or  a  "  bust  in  butter  "  with  us,  was 
the  subject  of  popular  applause.  Did  you  ever  see 
Ruskin's  ''  self-made  man  and  the  Apollo  Belvedere  "  ? 
Just  as  the  religious  with  us  dedicate  their  days  to 
charity  and  good  works  so  they  dedicated  theirs  to  the 
development  of  grace  and  symmetry.  So  Caesar  in  the 
care  of  his  attenuated  body  but  followed  the  mode. 

Indeed,  it  would  seem  from  the  atmosphere  of  man- 
created  beauty  that  surrounded  them  that  the  things 
that  we  as  a  nation  are  but  beginning  to  know  they 
absorbed  from  their  infancy.  A  desire  for  every  sort 
of  beauty  was  almost  an  instinct  with  them.  Love  of 
the  beautiful  in  art  is  not  essential  to  Christianity, 
which  has  to  do  rather  with  righteousness,  but  is  an  in- 
heritance from  older  peoples,  including  the  Greeks,  the 
Romans,  and  the  Saracens.  Everything  must  be  beau- 
tiful, from  a  broom-handle  to  a  coronet;  from  the 
prow  of  a  ship  to  the  buckle  of  a  sandal ;  from  the  head 
of  a  hand-made  nail,  with  which  they  fastened  together 
two  pieces  of  wood,  marble,  or  bronze,  to  the  frieze  of 
a  temple;  from  the  earthen  receptacle  for  the  oil  with 
which  they  anointed  their  bodies  daily  to  the  incinerary 
urns  that  held  the  ashes  of  the  departed. 

Baths  were  not  so  much  for  cleanliness  as  luxury, 


JULIUS  C^SAR  51 

and  physical  exercise  was  not  practiced  so  much  for 
health  as  comeliness,  not  so  much  for  strength  as  trans- 
lucency  of  integument  and  pulchritude. 

A  physical  blemish  was  worse  than  a  notorious  vice. 
Hence  where  they  had  perfection  of  art  and  aesthetic 
magnificence,  such  as  temples  of  the  winds,  and  par- 
thenons,  and  pantheons,  and  buildings  of  unparalleled 
and  transcendent  splendor  to  every  known  and  un- 
known god,  we  have  orphan  asylums,  and  hospitals, 
and  homes  for  the  aged,  and  reformatories,  and  li- 
braries, and  free  schools,  and  country  weeks,  and  epi- 
leptic colonies,  and  insane  asylums,  and  every  variety 
of  altruistic  activity,  even  to  the  point  of  embarrassing 
abundance.  Defectives  that  they  put  to  death  we 
house  in  palaces  and  wait  on  like  willing  slaves,  and 
feebleness  with  us  makes  a  stronger  appeal  than 
strength  and  forcefulness.  Christianity  has  made  the 
difference. 

Caesar  was  also  particular  about  not  only  the  sanitary 
but  the  artistic  care  of  his  hands  and  feet,  and  treated 
them  as  important  members  of  the  physical  common- 
wealth, worthy  of  all  honor.  And  he  was  as  squeam- 
ish about  his  food  as  a  chlorotic  girl.  Like  all  the 
exquisites  of  his  moment,  he  was  fastidious  not  only 
about  his  garments  but  about  the  draping  of  them. 
The  folds,  we  are  told,  had  to  fall  gracefully,  no  mat- 
ter how  much  practice  it  took  to  make  them  do  so, 
and  in  private  and  public  life  he  managed  his  raiment 
with  the  skill  of  a  tragedian  or  prima  donna. 

Donatello,  as  we  have  intimated,  in  his  interesting 


52  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

terra  cotta  profile  conception  of  Caesar,  would  seem  to 
have  taken  note  of  this  trait  of  his  character,  for  he 
makes  him  the  high-born  dilettante  and  exquisite, 
with  the  delicate  susceptibility  of  a  too  secluded  lady- 
patrician,  or  of  a  vestal  virgin,  rather  than  the  master 
spirit  of  an  imperial  senate  or  the  virile  general  of  a 
world-conquering  army. 

Even  in  death,  you  remember,  he  exhibited  this  deli- 
cate sartorial  characteristic,  when  covering  his  face 
with  the  end  of  his  toga,  so  as  to  conceal,  even  in  dis- 
solution, any  change  of  feature  that  might  be  unseemly, 
as  a  lady  with  her  fan.  The  ruling  passion  was  strong 
even  in  death,  and  thus  having  let  the  curtain  fall  as  it 
were  on  his  greatness,  he  died,  the  garments  of  his 
angel  of  death  bespattered  with  his  blood. 

In  spite  of  the  doubtful  Et  tu,  Briite^  and  its  conjec- 
tural interpretation,  it  may  be  that  in  the  rapidity  and 
confusion  of  his  assassination  —  for  it  came  like  a 
sudden  summons  to  a  higher  court  —  that  he  thought 
this,  which  was  his  death,  but  another  seizure  of  ep- 
ilepsy, for  the  epileptic  die  often,  hence  his  covering 
his  face  with  his  flowing  robes,  as  was  his  custom  in 
an  attack  so  as  to  conceal  compromising  contortions. 
We  are  aware  that  the  Roman  noble  when  about  to 
die  either  turned  his  face  to  the  wall  or  covered  it  with 
the  skirt  of  his  toga.  Nevertheless  we  feel  that  our 
theory  about  Caesar's  disposal  of  his  garment  was  due 
rather  to  his  conviction  that  he  was  about  to  have 
another  convulsion. 

He  did  not,  like  King  George,  of  England,  exactly 


JULIUS  C^SAR  53 

make  his  own  clothes;  yet,  usually  under  his  personal 
direction,  they  were  made  by  his  wife,  and  he  gave  to 
them  as  much  attention  as  if  he  were  planning  a  cam- 
paign, or  as  if  he  were  a  Beau  Brummel  or  a  Nash,  and 
needed  to  increase  his  fascinations  by  the  fashion  of 
his  raiment.  Not  only  the  color  and  the  quality  of 
the  fabric  but  the  trimmings  also  received  careful  at- 
tention. It  is  strange  that  the  omniscient  Carlyle  did 
not  mention  in  ''  Sartor  Resartus  "  Ccosar's  sartorial 
elegance  and  fondness  for  the  things  of  the  man- 
milliner. 

He  was  thus  particular  about  his  appearance  until 
toward  the  end  of  his  career.  As  he  approached  what 
was  to  him  "  the  sear  and  yellow  leaf,"  although  he  was 
only  fifty-six  years  old  when  he  died,  he  was  not  so 
careful.  At  that  period  in  the  life  of  a  man  when  he 
needs  to  be  more  particular  about  his  personal  appear- 
ance, Caesar  then,  like  Nero  always,  became  negligent, 
even  to  the  point  of  forgetting  at  times  to  shave,  and 
did  not  to  such  an  extent  as  formerly  patronize  the 
bath. 

His  eyes,  we  are  told,  were  brown,  and  not  to  be 
out  of  harmony  —  like  George  Washington  and 
Adam  and  the  present  royal  family  of  England  —  his 
hair  was  red,  we  would  say  auburn.  His  gait  was 
dignified,  expression  serious,  and  in  company,  rather 
from  good-nature  than  training,  he  was  scrupulously 
attentive  to  all  the  amenities  of  polite  life.  At  his  best 
he  was  a  Chesterfield  of  deportment.  Kindly  consid- 
eration, when  it  did  not  conflict  with  what  he  thought 


54  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

duty,  was  an  endearing  characteristic.  He  was  se- 
verely just  and  tenderly  sympathetic.  Yet,  as  we  have 
seen,  he  was  as  regardless  of  human  life  when  he  imag- 
ined the  occasion  demanded  it  as  if  it  were  unworthy 
of  serious  thought.  He  put  persons  to  death,  even 
his  friends  and  the  members  of  his  own  domestic  circle, 
without  scruple  or  qualm  of  conscience,  just  as  if  re- 
questing them  to  retire  into  another  room,  and  with 
about  the  same  satisfaction,  we  imagine,  felt  by  a  cat 
when  licking  her  lips  after  having  eaten  your  pet 
canary.  People  then  had  no  regard  for  human  life, 
not  even  their  own;  but,  oh,  what  they  accomplished 
before  quitting  it, —  the  matchless  unattainable  things 
we  have  inherited  from  them, —  what  they  achieved 
and  created !  What  times  those  were,  after  all !  Yet, 
no  time  seems  great  when  here,  and  perhaps  future  in- 
heritors of  twentieth  century  conquests  will  wax  elo- 
quent about  us  also.  What  greater  thing  has  ever 
happened  in  the  world  than  the  multitude  of  handsome 
and  splendidly  equipped  libraries  erected  all  over  the 
world  by  our  Carnegies,  or  the  art  collections  gathered 
by  our  Pierpont  Morgans? 

Nothing  in  Csesars  life  showed  that  he  was  con- 
cerned in  the  slightest  about  a  future  state,  nor  did 
he  seem  to  have  any  theory  about  it. 

In  collecting  from  rather  voluminous  reading  into 
one  ensemble  these  domestic  and  personal  traits,  which 
were  dwelt  upon,  too,  with  so  much  particularity  by 
the  persons  who  have  written  so  lovingly  about  Csesar, 
notwithstanding  the  barbarity  of  some  of  them  and 


JULIUS  C^SAR  55 

the  trifling  nature  of  others,  they  impress  you  with  the 
fact  that  his  all-seeing  mind  took  in  the  infinitesimally 
great  and  little,  and  that  there  was  nothing  in  his  life 
especially  indicative  of  epilepsy.  They  convince  you, 
too,  that  his  disease  may  be  present  in  man  without 
interfering  with  the  exercise  of  the  highest  faculties. 

In  addition  to  his  wives,  whom  Plutarch  tells  us 
he  changed  four  times,  according  to  the  prevalent 
pagan  practice, —  a  practice  that  certain  misfit  clergy- 
men are  endeavoring  to  revise  and  make  respectable, 
contrary  to  the  teachings  of  their  Master, —  there  were 
certain  ''  Bies,"  as  Montaigne  calls  them,  whom,  as 
Charles  Lamb  said  about  one  of  the  English  kings, 
**  he  loved  besides  his  wife."  Montaigne,  in  his  gar- 
rulous way  and  with  characteristic  unction,  gives  a  list 
of  these  morganatic  maids,  or  matrons,  as  the  case  may 
be,  and  it  includes  other  queens  besides  Cleopatra. 
We  learn  also  from  Alontaigne  that  the  children  of 
such  unions  were  called  "  Merlins."  The  reader  will 
be  reminded  of  the  peculiar  Merlin  in  "  La  Morte 
d'Arthur,"  who  was  no  better  than  Edmund  in  "  King 
Lear,"  and  that  Caesar  was  said  to  be  the  father  of  a 
number  of  such  persons. 

He,  however,  left  no  legitimate  heir.  It  would  be 
instructive  to  trace  his  progeny  in  the  interest  of 
hereditary  epilepsy ;  but  it  is  not  possible. 

His  marriage  with  Calphurnia  was  childless.  His 
daughter  Julia,  whose  mother  was  Cornelia,  died  forty- 
four  years  before  the  Christian  era.  Caesarion,  borne 
to  him  by  Cleopatra,  and  the  child  Octavia  were  never 


56  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

recognized  as  legitimate  heirs,  and  died,  or  were  put  to 
death,  without  issue.  So  that  there  were  no  direct 
heirs  at  his  death  to  inherit  either  his  infirmity  or  his 
greatness. 

In  his  last  will  and  testament  he  leaves  the  grandson 
of  his  youngest  sister  his  successor.  This  is  the 
*'  Augustus  Caesar  "  of  history,  "'  the  young  Augustus," 
whose  serious  and  handsome  features  have  been  made 
familiar  by  an  antique  bust,  and  during  whose  reign 
the  temple  of  double-faced  Janus,  always  open  while 
war  was  being  conducted  in  any  of  Rome's  possessions, 
was  -closed  for  the  first  time  in  ages.  This  was  the 
period  preceding  the  advent  of  nefarious  Nero  and 
marking  the  com.ing  of  Christ. 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  great  were  highly  esteemed  in  the  old  days,  but 
often  only  after  their  death.  It's  safer  so,  for  you 
never  can  tell  what  a  scoundrel  a  man  may  become  in 
his  subsequent  life,  even  after  the  imposition  of  the 
laurel.  But  Caesar,  although  assassinated  and  by  the 
chief  men  of  Rome,  was  held,  nevertheless,  in  exalted 
estimate  while  living ;  and  after  his  decease  he  had  the 
royal  honor  paid  him  not  only  of  having  his  profile 
stamped  upon  the  coin  of  the  realm,  but  numerous  mon- 
uments were  erected  to  him  in  various  parts  of  the  Em- 
pire. Memorials  were  also  raised  in  his  honor  by  the 
government  in  every  state  of  the  Roman  union  and  in 
every  temple  in  Rome,  and  it  was  proclaimed  that 
divine  honor  should  be  paid  him  everywhere.  This 
was  the  origin  perhaps  of  canonization  with  one 
branch  of  the  Christian  Church,  inasmuch  as  it  made 
him  the  object  of  w^orship  and  supplication,  as  if  he 
were  a  god.  After  him,  too,  and  in  his  honor  Roman 
and  other  rulers  were  called  Caesars. 

Another  trait  marking  his  versatility,  but  not,  so  far 
as  I  can  remember,  before  mentioned  as  a  distinguish- 
ing trait  by  his  admirers,  was  his  capacity  as  a  con- 
structor of  temples  and  palaces  and  rebuilder  of  ruined 
cities :  that  is  to  say,  his  interest  in  and  addiction  to 
the  art  that  includes  all  art, — ■  architecture.     The  great 

57 


58  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

eras  and  epochs  of  the  world,  except  the  Reformation, 
were  ushered  in  or  were  crowned  by  the  construction 
of  mammoth  buildings,  temples,  mausoleums,  churches, 
mosques,  pyramids;  for  they  wTote  in  those  remote 
days  their  epics,  tragedies,  and  grotesqueries  too  in 
stone. 

Prehistoric  America,  Egypt,  India,  Syria,  Greece, 
Rome,  the  Saracens,  Italy,  the  period  of  the  Gothic,  the 
Renaissance,  thus  recorded  the  steps  in  the  develop- 
ment of  their  greatness,  and  wrote  their  histories  in 
stately  buildings,  mostly  places  of  worship, —  for  man 
is  naturally  devout, —  that  are  still,  even  in  decay,  ob- 
jects of  special  wonder.  With  us  the  man  that  builds 
an  enduring  home,  a  chateau,  a  school,  a  library,  an 
academy,  or  college,  is  a  marked  man ;  his  name  is  em- 
balmed in  local  memory  and  likely  to  be  transmitted, 
like  coin  in  a  cornerstone,  to  unborn  generations. 

There  have  been  men  immortalized  by  the  erection 
of  a  single  building, — Sir  Christopher  Wren,  St. 
Paul's;  John  I'Ahmer,  the  Alhambra;  Pisistratus,  the 
Temple  of  Jupiter;  Herodius  Atticus,  the  Stadium. 
Illustrations  might  be  repeated  endlessly.  Some  have 
attained  fame  by  the  decoration  of  a  building,  as 
Phidias  by  the  sculptures  of  the  Parthenon ;  others,  by 
the  pictorial  embellishments  of  the  interior  walls,  as 
Tintoretto,  by  the  frescoes  of  the  Venetian  Arsenal ; 
some,  by  the  erection  of  parts  of  buildings;  others,  by 
the  mere  fractions  of  parts,  as  the  Prentice  Pillar  at 
Hawthorneden.  If  Michael  Angelo  had  done  nothing 
else,  the  mere  fact  of  his  having  reproduced  the  missing 


JULIUS  C^SAR  59 

hand  of  the  Apollo  Belvedere  would  have  secured  him 
remembrance. 

Men  have  gained  glory  by  the  building  of  a  single 
church,  or  part  of  a  church,  or  the  rebuilding  of  one, 
as  Yorkminster,  its  reconstruction  transmitting  to  pos- 
terity the  memory  of  three  men, — Archbishop  Rogers, 
Walter  de  Gray,  and  John  M.  Romaine.  La  France 
was  immortalized  by  Canterbury,  Bishop  Padsey  by 
the  Galilee  chapel  of  Durham,  and  the  like;  but  Caesar 
not  only  raised  great  temples  in  their  entirety  but  at- 
tended to  their  pictorial  and  sculptural  decorations  as 
well.  Even  the  mutilated  remains  of  one  of  these 
temples  would  give  distinction  to  a  city  to-day,  for  they 
were  wonders  in  marble,  which  under  the  touch  of  his 
imperial  wand  emerged  from  the  heart  of  the  earth  like 
Venus  from  the  sea,  and  that  outran  in  splendor  of 
ivory,  bronze,  and  semi-precious  stone  such  buildings 
as  the  "  golden  house  "of  Nero,  which  they  preceded 
by  a  hundred  years. 

Not  only  this,  but  he  reconstructed  whole  cities, — 
their  dwellings,  palaces,  places  of  worship,  coliseums, 
theaters,  pleasure  gardens,  and  driveways, —  in  more 
than  pristine  magnificence.  Cities  that  had  been  pre- 
*  viously  reduced  by  his  own  or  other  armies  to  ruins  he 
re-erected  with  a  splendor  unknown  to  their  founders. 

The  cathedrals  of  the  ages  of  faith,  "  poetry  in 
stone,"  "  frozen  music,"  adding  their  deathless  diapason 
to  the  slowly  evolving  harmony  of  the  world,  filling 
the  soul  with  wonder,  reverence,  and  awe,  and  raising 
it  to  heaven,   required  usually  for  their  construction 


6o  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

centuries  of  time  and  the  combination  of  many  minds 
to  bring  them  to  their  state  of  devotion-inspiring  sub- 
limity. But  Caesar  in  his  own  person  was  responsible 
for  many  "  temple-miracles,"  often  in  marble  as  white 
as  snow  and  polished  with  the  perfection  of  a  gem  for 
a  lady's  finger,  for  gods  and  goddesses  were  never 
more  superbly  honored  in  any  land  than  by  the  archi- 
tecture and  sculpture  of  the  pagan  world. 

Judging  from  the  description  of  his  collection  of  con- 
temporary and  ancient  art,  which  he  personally  gath- 
ered and  housed  in  his  palace  on  the  Palatine  Hill,  as 
intimated  by  Pliny  the  Elder,  Caesar  was  a  collector  as 
eager  and  far-reaching  as  Cicero  or  Richard  Wal- 
lace, and  he  must  have  found  the  creation  and  re- 
creation of  architectural  grace  and  splendor  a  labor 
of  love  beyond  that  of  the  mere  superintendent. 

These  in  his  own  lifetime  did  he  who  did  so  many 
things  besides.  For  he  was  ruler  as  well  as  author, 
general  as  well  as  orator,  poet  as  well  as  politician ;  and 
guided  the  ship  of  state  to  salubrious  havens  as  well 
as  the  ark  of  Roman  imperialism  to  exalted  ideals. 

So  great  were  the  things  he  inspired  and  personally 
commanded  and  managed  that  we  would  appoint  a 
commission  and  charter  a  special  steamer  to  bring  it 
to  America  if  we  could  only  possess  even  one  of  the 
decorative  figures,  or  the  mere  head  of  one  of  them  — 
of  the  statue  of  Cleopatra,  for  example,  that  he  had 
installed  in  the  Temple  of  Venus  Genetrix, —  or  an 
entablature,  or  a  fluted  column  with  capitals  of  gold 
from  some  one  of  his  many  buildings  which  are  now  in 


JULIUS  C^SAR  6i 

dust,  yet  which  once  exhibited  a  splendor  beyond  that 
of  Babylon  or  Heliopolis,  and  which  were  created  as 
rapidly  in  marble,  porphyry,  ivory,  and  bronze  as  we 
imitate  them  in  wood,  plaster,  and  staff.  If  such  a 
work  of  art  were  to  be  brought  here,  it  would 
be  photographed  and  journalized  and  copied  in  plaster 
and  putty  and  celluloid,  and  given  as  a  premium  for  a 
subscription  to  dollar  magazines.  It  would  be  talked 
about  in  every  village  and  vie  with  prizefighting  re- 
ports in  the  Sunday  papers,  and  enterprising  railroads 
would  arrange  pilgrimages  at  reduced  rates  to  gaze 
upon  it. 

Thus  commerce  surrounds  the  objects  of  adoration 
with  a  nickel  halo  and  humanity  pays  perpetual  hom- 
age to  greatness. 


MOHAMMED 


TO 

THE    MEMORY    OF 

FRANCES  POWER  COBBE 

Pioneer  in  the  study  of  com- 
parative religions,  this  sketch 
of  the  Prophet  of  Arabia  is 
reverently  dedicated 


MOHAMMED  , 

ft€    Um  i^ 

CHAPTER  VII  efy'^i 

From  Caesar,  the  founder  of  an  empire,  to  Moham- 
med, the  founder  of  a  religion,  there  is  a  gulf  of  about 
six  hundred  years. 

The  only  resemblance  that  there  is  between  these  two 
is  that  they  were  both  epileptics  and  both  conquerors. 
Both  wrote  one  epoch-making  book,  and  both  had 
irritable,  nervous  systems,  which  at  varying  intervals 
responded  by  convulsions  to  unknown  stimuli. 

Caesar,  as  we  have  seen,  only  on  one  occasion  at- 
tempted to  make  his  malady  an  excuse  for  his  conduct. 
But  it  has  been  said  of  Mohammed  that  he  used  his 
infirmity  as  a  ladder  up  which,  as  the  sun  to  its  zenith, 
he  climbed  to  the  apex  of  his  ambition,  or  mission, 
surely  the  most  exalted  ever  achieved  by  mere  man, — 
interpreter  of  the  Most  High  to  now  nearly  one  hun- 
dred and  seventy-seven  million  persons,  who  would 
still  rather  die  than  surrender  allegiance  to  their 
Prophet;  and  who  after  thirteen  centuries  of  experi- 
mental test  still  consider  impious  language  uttered 
against  him  the  same  as  if  uttered  against  God, — ' 
blasphemy  punishable  by  death.  It  has  been  said  that 
there  is  hardly  any  other  religion,  Judaism  excepted, 
that  has  been  held  so  long  by  so  many  nationalities  and 

67 


68  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

races  of  people  without  producing  envy-engendering 
and  perplexing  schism. 

The  author's  purpose  in  the  composition  of  this 
appreciation  is  not  a  panegyric  on  Mohammed,  but 
rather  an  attempt  to  exhibit  a  mind  unspoiled,  yet  epi- 
leptic :  in  other  words,  to  demonstrate  that  such  a  dis- 
ease may  exist  side  by  side  with  attractive  domestic 
qualities  and  great  public  achievements,  that  a  brilliant 
career,  although  handicapped  thus,  is  not  necessarily 
precluded  by  epilepsy. 

Just  as  the  Rabbis  in  their  righteous  zeal  for  ortho- 
doxy put  the  worst  construction  on  all  that  Christ 
said  and  did,  so  the  Christians  of  the  time  of  Moham- 
med and  subsequently,  and  not  always  with  the  high 
purpose  of  the  Hebrew,  but  rather  to  justify  their  own 
rapacity  and  iniquitous  treatment  of  Islam,  put  the 
worst  construction  on  everything  connected  with  the 
"  False  Prophet.'' 

Traces  of  this  gratuitously  created  vilification,  in 
spite  of  all  that  has  been  written  to  the  contrary,  are 
still  to  be  found,  if  not  in  books,  at  least  in  general 
conversation.  The  old  slanders  are  still  repeated  with 
irritating  complacency,  for  there  are  not  many  things 
that  live  so  long  as  does  a  cunningly  devised  calumny, 
when  it  appeals  to  cupidity  and  vanity. 

Mohammed  was  born  at  the  end  of  the  sixth  cen- 
tury at  Mecca.  He  was  the  son  of  a  poor  merchant, 
Abdallah  by  name,  of  whom  it  has  been  said  —  and  this 
was  considered  of  sufficient  importance  by  Washing- 
ton Irving  for  him  to  quote  it  —  that  he  was  so  beauti- 


MOHAMMED  .  69 

ful  that  "  when  he  married  Amina,  subsequently  Mo- 
hammed's mother,  two  hundred  virgins  broke  their 
hearts  from  disappointed  love."  The  father  died  soon 
after,  some  say  before,  his  son's  birth,  and  Moham- 
med's mother,  according  to  the  custom  of  her  people, 
gave  him  for  a  time  into  the  care  of  a  Bedouin  nurse, 
that  he  might  be  reared  in  the  salubrious  air  of  the 
desert.  In  consequence  of  repeated  convulsions,  he 
was  returned  in  his  third  year,  and  from,  then  until  his 
death,  fifty-seven  years  afterward,  he  was  the  victim 
of  all  the  phenomena  of  epilepsy.  The  epileptic  cry, 
hallucinations  of  sight  and  hearing,  automatism,  tonic 
and  clonic  spasms,  and  all  the  prodromi  and  sequelae  of 
convulsions  would  seem  to  have  been  distinctly  mani- 
fest in  his  various  seizures. 

It  has  been  said  of  him  that  he  was  guilty  of  the 
"^  pious  fraud "  of  assuring  his  followers  that  his 
spasms  were  merely  periods  when  his  soul  separated 
from  his  body,  was  in  communion  with  the  Almighty, 
through  the  medium  of  the  Archangel  Gabriel,  and 
that  it  was  during  these  indirect  seances  with  the 
Deity  that  he  received  instruction  qualifying  him  to 
write  the  Koran.  How  true  this  is  I  do  not  know.  I 
have  found  no  such  claim  among  Moslem  writers. 

The  monkish  story  also  about  his  having  trained  a 
pigeon  to  light  on  his  shoulder  and  pick  corn  from  his 
ear,  with  the  purpose  of  giving  the  impression  that  it 
was  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  form  of  a  dove  sent  to  com- 
municate the  mysteries  of  the  unseen,  has  long  ago 
been  discredited  as  a  childish  invention  of  the  enemy 


yo  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

and  could  only  have  been  accepted  by  persons  knowing 
nothing  of  the  ingenuousness  and  honesty  of  his 
character.  Mohammed  held  the  Almighty  in  too  much 
reverence  to  have  claimed  direct  communion  with  Him. 
Like  the  Hebrew,  he  declared  that  no  man  could  see 
God  and  live.  Consequently,  his  interviews  were  al- 
ways indirect  and,  as  claimed,  through  the  instrumen- 
tality of  Gabriel.  It  is  easy  to  meet  such  statements 
with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  and  cry  "  fraud  "  when 
there  may  only  be  at  most  self-deception. 

It  is  certain,  judging  from  the  number  of  converts 
and  other  conditions, —  for  many  of  his  followers  be- 
gan in  illiteracy  and  semi-barbarity  and  ended  in  appre- 
ciative scholarship  and  refinement, —  that  Mohammed 
was  one  of  the  greatest  preachers  that  ever  lived,  if 
not  the  greatest,  judging  from  almost  immediate  re- 
sults. Therefore,  it  is  worth  while  to  study  his 
methods. 

St.  Paul  talked  of  the  foolishness  of  preaching,  and 
we,  some  of  us,  of  the  compromise  of  preaching  to  men 
on  the  street;  but  Mohammed,  in  addition  to  button- 
hole conferences,  nearly  always  spoke  in  the  open,  in 
the  fields,  on  the  hillside,  in  the  road,  just  as  the 
founder  of  our  religion  did,  as  the  primitive  Christians 
did,  and  among  moderns,  as  Adam  Clark,  John  Wes- 
ley, and  George  Wakefield  preeminently  did,  to  thou- 
sands of  people  and  convinced  them  by  hundreds  of 
thousands.  It  is  equally  true  that  Mohammed  was  a 
great  general  as  well  as  preacher  and  poet,  a  rare,  per- 
haps unique,  combination,  and  that  the  Koran,  his  first 


MOHAMMED  71 

and  only  effort  at  composition,  is  a  wonderful  book, 
full  of  poetry,  eloquence,  from  our  viewpoint  mean- 
ingless rhapsody  and  incomprehensibility,  too ;  but  that 
may  be  due  to  our  limitations,  to  our  not  having  the 
Oriental  mind. 

**  There  are  passages  in  it  more  sublime  than  any- 
thing in  Dante  or  Milton,"  says  Byron,  always  inter- 
ested in  things  Oriental,  "  and  so  subtle  and  profound 
is  much  of  it  that  the  best  minds  of  the  East  have 
found  it  a  text  for  scholarly  and  dialectical  disserta- 
tions for  centuries;  yet  the  Koran  is  said  to  be  the 
least  of  Mohammed's  achievements;"  for  not  litera- 
ture but  righteousness  was  his  strong  point. 

However,  this  remarkable  man  accomplished  the 
singular  feat  of  establishing,  we  may  call  it,  a  cult  that 
numbers  among  its  members,  according  to  the  latest 
report  of  a  great  French  census  expert,  M.  Fornier  de 
Flaix,  one-sixth  of  all  the  people  of  the  earth.  Or,  to 
put  it  in  another  way,  for  every  five  persons  in  all 
known  religions,  including  the  most  numerous,  in  their 
order, —  Roman  Catholicism,  Protestantism,  Brahmin- 
ism,  Hindooism,  Buddhism,  Greek  Catholicism,  Tao- 
ism, Judaism,  Parsees,  Polytheism,  and  the  rest, —  for 
every  five  persons  belonging  to  all  these  combined  there 
is  one  who  believes  that  "  God  only  is  God,  and  Mo- 
hammed His  Prophet."  That  is  their  only  Creed. 
Polygamy  is  not  a  part  of  Mohammedan  belief.  There 
are  many  Mohammedans  that  do  not  have  even  one 
wife,  and  they  do  not  need  to  have.  It  is  also  true 
that  Islam  is  growing  more  rapidly  and  makes  more 


^2  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

converts  every  year  by  missionaries  than  all  other 
churches  combined. 

Is  not  that  in  itself  startling?  That  such  a  work  of 
religious  construction  and  unity, —  due  to  the  influence 
of  one  man  speaking  but  one  tongue,  and  that  man  an 
epileptic, —  could  by  any  human  possibility  spring  up 
among  a  polyglot  people  is  strange  and  more  incompre- 
hensible than  any  other  event  in  history, —  a  mysterious 
occurrence,  indeed,  beating  against  the  shores  of 
imagination  like  waves  against  the  rocks  from  an  un- 
known sea! 

Is  it  not  strange,  too,  that  so  much  of  the  great 
work  of  the  world  is  being,  and  has  been,  done  by  in- 
valids and  handicapped  persons  ?  In  our  own  time,  to 
mention  but  a  few,  there  are, —  Herbert  Spencer, 
Charles  Darwin,  Mrs.  Browning,  the  deaf  Professor 
Bell,  inventing  the  telephone,  the  sightless  Huber, 
studying  bees.  And  is  it  not  stranger  still  that  the 
athletic  and  superb  specimens  of  brawn  and  health 
often  do  so  little  of  enduring  value? 

A  sound  mind  in  a  sound  body  does  not  always  im- 
ply efficiency  in  the  best  things.  Aristotle  and  ^sop, 
Disraeli  and  Spinoza,  and  Schiller  and  Voltaire,  "  as 
ugly  as  Pope  and  as  sickly  as  Pascal,"  and  the  ever 
active  and  always  heroic  St.  Paul  are  instantly  occur- 
ring examples.  And  many  other  men  of  feeble  mold, 
who  by  their  achievements  have  made  the  world  better, 
had  their  ancestral  Nemesis  in  the  way  of  chronic  in- 
validism, without  apparent  limitation  of  capacity, 
while  the  men  who  take  prizes  in  athletic  events  are  not 


MOHAMMED  73 

always  heard  of  afterward  in  higher  spheres.  The 
leading  member,  the  brains  of  the  family,  is  often  the 
cripple,  the  deformed;  the  stalwart  specimen  of  manly 
beauty  may  be  its  disgrace. 

We  are  so  apt  in  these  days  of  rampant  and  arro- 
gant athletics  to  make  health  and  physical  development 
a  fetish,  and  to  long  after  the  flesh-pot  of  a  big  biceps, 
not  seeming  to  realize  that  to  most  of  us  overenlarged 
muscles  would  be  an  incongruity,  a  defonnity,  as  un- 
essential as  a  tumor  or  any  other  abnormal  growth. 
And  we  are  apt  to  forget  too  that  a  manly  man,  no 
matter  how  physically  feeble  he  may  be,  should  not 
allow  the  absence  of  robust  health  and  of  muscles  like 
Hercules  to  stand  in  the  way  of  a  career  and  active 
usefulness.  Manliness  has  to  do  with  the  mind  rather 
than  the  muscles. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  the  salutary  invincibility  of 
Charles  Martel  in  the  eighth  century  in  breaking  the 
victorious  line  of  Mohammedan  march  ''  by  breasts,'* 
as  Gibbon  says,  "  like  solid  ramparts  and  arms  like 
iron,  the  Arab  might  have  been  lord  of  the  Teuton  and 
Briton  to-day.  The  Koran  might  have  been  taught  in 
the  schools  of  Oxford,  and  her  pulpits  demonstrating 
to  a  circumcised  people  the  sanctity  and  truth  of  the 
revelation  of  Mahomet."  For  the  victory  of  the 
"  Hammer  "  at  Tours  over  the  invading  hosts  of  Islam 
was  one  of  the  decisive  battles  of  the  world,  and  saved 
Europe  to  Christianity,  to  such  Christianity  as  we 
know  to-day,  with  all  its  alluring  and  exhilarating 
achievements. 


74  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

For  they  were  a  wildly  proselytizing  body,  hav- 
ing such  an  exalted  faith  in  the  founder,  or  rather 
fosterer  of  their  religion  —  for  Mohammed  only 
claimed  to  be  "  in  line  with  the  patriarchs  and  prophets, 
including  Moses  and  Jesus  " —  that  they  even  to-day 
consider  as  pagans,  idolators,  giaours,  barbarians,  infi- 
dels —  the  epithets  are  numerous  and  never  compli- 
mentary —  all  who  do  not  believe  in  him  as  a  servant 
of  God,  and  that  is  all  he  ever  pretended  to  be.  He 
could  have  been  worshiped  as  a  deity  had  he  permitted 
it;  his  relics,  too,  would  have  worked  miracles  had  he 
not  from  the  beginning  condemned  as  utterly  blas- 
phemous the  sanctification  of  matter,  or  anything 
drawing  men's  minds  from  God. 

In  the  establishment  of  the  new  faith  the  Prophet's 
purpose  was  the  obliteration  of  fetish  worship,  idolatry, 
and  licentiousness  among  his  countrymen,  to  all  of 
which  they  were  greatly  addicted.  Before  his  time 
they  worshiped  clods,  stones,  hideous  idols,  and  had  no 
responsibility  in  marriage.  Women  had  no  marital 
rights.  They  were  cast  off  by  former  partners  without 
hindrance  as  you  cast  off  a  garment.  Pure  deism  and 
rigidly  limited  polygamy  — "  One,  two,  or  three  wives ; 
but  better  one,"  was  the  formula  —  were  substituted 
as  a  protest  against  brutalizing  superstition,  idol  wor- 
ship, and  unrestrained  vice.  He  would  seem  at  first 
to  have  favored  monogamy;  but  finally  permitted  a 
rigidly  restricted  polygamy,  as  a  compromise. 

These  reforms  were  to  have  been  effected  by  the  pa- 
cific influence  of  moral  suasion,  preaching,  exhorting, 


MOHAMMED  75 

and  the  reduction  of  the  particulars  of  the  faith  to 
writing  for  universal  dissemination.  It  was  only  after 
extreme  persecution  by  the  powerful  adherents  of  the 
old  faith,  and  after  he  had  multitudes  of  followers  that 
he  resorted  to  arms.  Then,  unlike  Philip,  Alexander, 
Caesar,  and  other  conquerors  before  and  since,  the  re- 
wards of  service  and  victory  were  not  worldly  emolu- 
ments,—  promotion,  place,  prominence, —  but  paradise ! 
His  officers  received  no  pay,  and  did  not,  like  Chris- 
tians of  the  same  period,  compensate  themselves  by 
pillage. 

Righteousness  to  man  and  reverence  to  God  like 
golden  threads  are  woven  into  the  fabric  of  Islamism. 
Benevolence  and  forbearance  are  the  pillars  that  sup- 
port the  structure.  Abstinence  and  almsgiving  are  all 
essential  elements,  and  so  is  prayer,  which  is  declared 
*'  the  third  part  of  the  faith  "  and  "  the  gate  of  en- 
trance into  the  paradise  of  the  believer."  Such  were 
the  principal  weapons  of  this  epileptic's  warfare. 


CHAPTER  Vlil 

If  you  want  the  earth,  you  get  it  —  when  you  are 
dead.  But  Mohammed  won  it  while  hving ;  for  in  his 
own  lifetime  he  saw  his  creed  triumphant,  not  only  in 
Arabia,  but  in  many  outstanding  countries. 

This  is,  indeed,  unparalleled.  That  a  man,  with 
such  odds  against  him  and  that  man  one  whose  nervous 
system  played  tricks  with  him,  should  achieve  in  his 
own  day  such  vast  reforms,  not  only  among  his  own 
nation,  but  among  countless  races  and  tribes  of  lin- 
guistically diversified  peoples,  is  a  victory  greater  than 
any  recorded  in  history.  It  reverses  the  opinion,  too, 
that  a  prophet  is  not  without  honor  save  in  his  own 
country. 

So  convincing  a  speaker  was  Mohammed  that  his 
preaching  had  such  an  effect  upon  his  heterogeneous 
millions  as  to  mold  them  into  religious  unity,  and 
that,  too,  as  we  have  said,  before  his  death. 

Even  to-day,  no  matter  how  alien  your  viewpoint, 
the  mere  reading  of  certain  excerpts  from  his  composi- 
tions thrill  you  as  the  priests  of  Delphos  were  said  to  be 
thrilled  by  reading  or  hearing  the  oracles.  But  there 
is  no  duplicity  in  Mohammed's  discourses:  they  are 
often  as  luminous  as  light  and  as  candid  as  the  criti- 
cism of  a  child.  Yet  they  have  sufficient  mystery,  too, 
to  make  them  alluring  to  the  greatest  minds.     It  was 

76 


MOHAMMED  ^^ 

Sir  Joshua  who  said  —  see  his  "  Lectures  on  Paint- 
ing " —  that  "  mystery  is  an  essential  element  of  the 
sublime."     The  Koran  abounds  in  this  quality. 

So  implicitly  was  Mohammed  obeyed  that  his  fol- 
lowers not  only  abstained  from  all  inebriating  fluids 
because  he  simply  said  they  did  more  harm  than  good, 
but  they  did  not  even  make  use  of  the  proceeds  from 
the  sale  of  intoxicating  liquors  or  even  of  grapes,  be- 
cause they  were  used  in  making  such  intoxicants. 
Mohammedan  condemnation  of  games  of  chance,  be- 
cause of  the  Prophet's  objection  to  them,  is  so  final 
that  they  not  only  abstain  from  gambling  themselves, 
but  condemn  it  to  such  an  extent  that  the  testimony  of 
gamblers  is  invalid  in  courts  of  justice.  Games  of 
skill,  such  as  chess,  are  permitt<ed,  ''  unless,"  as  he  said, 
''  they  interfere  with  the  regular  performance  of  re- 
ligion or  are  played  for  stakes." 

Who  can  tell  the  secret,  plumb  the  mysterious  depths 
of  this  unquestioning  obedience,  elicited,  too,  from  a 
people  so  fierce,  impassive,  belligerent?  What  faith  is 
like  unto  this  ?  Faith  in  a  personality, —  so  impression- 
able, so  loyal,  so  deathless,  so  persistent,  including  the 
performance  of  tedious  tasks  and  the  denial  of  many 
pleasures, —  is  indeed  a  problem  for  psychologists. 

His  fear  of  his  people's  returning  to  fetish  worship, 
his  dread  of  idolatry,  of  sanctification  of  matter,  of 
deification  of  created  things,  caused  him,  like  Moses, 
to  prohibit  his  followers  from  making  the  likeness  of 
anything  in  the  heaven  above  or  in  the  earth  beneath, 
or  in  the  waters  under  the  earth;  and  they,  unlike  the 


78  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

compatriots  of  the  great  lawgiver,  have  never,  as  a 
people,  disobeyed  their  "  heaven-sent  leader."  Their 
loyalty  in  this  particular  has  resulted  in  an  architecture, 
an  art,  and  an  entirely  new  system  of  aesthetics,  more 
beautiful  than  anything  the  world  had  ever  seen  be- 
fore ;  as  witness, —  the  Taj  Mahal  of  Shah  Jehan,  the 
specimens  of  domestic  and  monumental  architecture 
and  decorations  scattered  through  the  East,  the  Al- 
hambra  and  many  other  palaces  in  many  parts  of  Af- 
rica and  Spain,  as  in  Seville,  Cordova,  Cadiz,  Granada, 
and  also  in  other  parts  of  the  world.  Wherever  they 
entered  and  sojourned  as  conquerors  we  find  gloriously 
awe-inspiring  memorials.  And  this  superiority  in  the 
arts  and  invincibility  in  arms  continued  from  the  time 
of  Mohammed  until  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, when,  under  the  leadership  of  Solyman,  the  mag- 
nificent, Islam  reached  the  summit  of  its  supremacy. 
Since  then  there  has  been  a  gradual  decline,  due,  like 
all  declines,  to  luxury,  voluptuousness,  depravity,  self- 
indulgence  on  the  part  of  leaders,  and  abandonment  of 
the  original  tenets  of  the  founder  and  more  likely  also 
to  an  exclusive  study  of  the  Koran  to  the  neglect  of 
other  books. 

Mohammed  did  not  create  polygamy.  He  found  it 
extravagantly  practiced  among  the  people  of  his  na- 
tion and  among  all  Semitic  peoples,  including  the  Jews. 
When  he  could  not  abolish  it,  he  restricted  it.  Solo- 
mon the  Wise,  as  we  know,  had  seven  hundred  wives 
in  round  numbers,  besides  af^nities,  without  censure; 
but  Mohammed  limited  the  number  to  '^  two,  three,  or 


MOHAMMED  79 

four."  ^*  If  you  fear  you  cannot  properly  protect  or 
provide  for  that  many,  one  " ;  such  is  the  teaching  of 
the  Koran. 

You  should  know,  too,  that  the  word  "  harem,"  into 
which  we  vulgarly  read  so  many  base  things,  philo- 
logically  means  instead  "  holy  place," —  that  is  to  say, 
the  place  set  apart  in  the  home  for  women  and  children. 

We  are  talking,  remember,  of  Mohammedan  ideals, 
of  Islamism  and  its  tenets  as  inculcated  by  its  prophet. 
The  Turk  to-day  has  not  become  "  unspeakable  "  by 
obeying,  but  rather  by  abandoning  the  teachings  of 
the  Founder  of  his  faith. 

Cleanliness  and  prayer  are  important  parts  of  the 
practice  of  the  faithful,  who  were  taught  specially  to 
pray  five  times  daily,  and  to  keep  their  bodies  and 
prayer  rugs  clean.  If  water  was  not  to  be  had  for  the 
purpose,  they  were  to  bathe  with  sand,  rubbing  their 
bodies  with  it. 

This  uniformity  of  belief  and  unquestioning  obedi- 
ence, although  obtained  afterward  at  the  point  of  the 
sword,  was  mostly  accomplished  peacefully.  And  it 
was  accomplished,  too,  without  the  aid  of  clergy,  for 
Mohammedanism  originally  had  no  special  ecclesias- 
tics. Its  establishment,  too,  was  secured  without  the 
assistance  of  gorgeous  places  of  worship,  with  their  im- 
pressive emotional  appeal  causing  the  soul  of  man  to 
exalt  the  Creator.  There  was  no  clerical  establishment, 
no  ritual,  no  music :  merely  a  bell  or  the  human  voice 
called  men  to  prayer.  There  were  no  pictures,  no  in- 
strumentality of  devout  women,  for  Mohammedanism 


8o  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

forbids  women  to  appear  in  the  presence  of  men  at 
worship  —  the  company  of  the  devout  that  fill  the 
mosques  of  Islam  are  men.  There  were  no  emolu- 
ments nor  salaries  connected  with  the  service  of  the 
temple.  No  man  was  expected  to  pay  for  rite  or  cere- 
mony ;  everything  was  to  be  done  without  fee,  gratuity, 
or  reward.  And  no  one,  it  seems,  expected  compensa- 
tion for  religious  service  in  connection  with  this  insti- 
tution that  was  founded  on  a  book,  a  series  of  revela- 
tions, and  the  shortest  of  all  creeds,  "  I  believe  in  God 
and  Mohammed  as  the  preacher  of  God," — that  was  a 
life  rather  than  a  church,  a  religious  system  whose  high- 
est ceremonial  is  prayer,  whose  most  essential  place  of 
worship  is  anywhere  under  the  blue  dome  clean 
enough,  when  possible,  to  spread  a  rug  upon,  whose  all- 
important  duty  is  the  honest  discharge  of  responsibility 
and  debt. 

The  man  that  had  such  an  influence  over  the  minds 
of  mixed  multitudes  through  a  system  of  his  own  in- 
vention must,  in  spite  of  his  neurosis,  have  been  of 
powerful  intellect,  and  you  would  imagine  of  ceaseless 
industry.  Yet,  unlike  Caesar,  Mohammed  was  "  indo- 
lent." He  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  time  in  sol- 
itary contemplation.  His  immediate  people,  on  the 
whole,  were  rather  insignificant  and  poor.  He  himself 
was  the  equivalent  of  a  "  cowpuncher,"  sometimes 
merely  a  shepherd,  again  a  camel  driver  for  wealthy 
Meccan  cattle  dealers.  And,  unlike  Csesar,  too,  he 
began  his  career  late  in  life. 

"  What  has  one  to  do  when  turned  fifty  but  really 


MOHAMMED  8i 

think  of  finishing?  "  says  that  charming  old  dilettante, 
dandy,  and  pedant,  Horace  Walpole,  in  a  letter  to  the 
author  of  "  An  Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard."  Yet 
it  was  not  so  far  from  this  age  that  Mohammed  began 
—  at  least  when  he  fully  started  —  on  his  career  of 
invincibility. 

It  was  after  his  fortieth  year,  and  wdien  he  had  been 
but  a  few  years  married,  "  during  an  epileptic  seizure," 
that  the  angel  Gabriel  appeared  and  commanded  him 
"  in  the  name  of  God  to  preach  the  truth,"  as  revealed 
to  him,  "  and  to  spread  it  abroad  by  committing  it  to 
writing."  During  his  entire  life  Mohammed's  spasms 
were  of  unusual  violence  and  length.  "  Fearfully 
rapturous  and  vehement,"  says  one  writer.  ''  As  a 
premonitory  symptom,"  says  another,  "  he  roared  like 
a  camel,"  which  may  have  been  but  the  epileptic  cry, 
exaggerated  and  artificially  prolonged  by  extraneous 
psychic  elements,  or  by  interested  or  devoted  eye-wit- 
nesses, just  as  Chinamen,  with  the  best  intentions, 
artificially  prolong  their  queues  by  horse  hair  and  bits 
of  string. 

Ussiba,  which  Abulfeda  uses  in  connection  with 
Mohammed,  is  the  Arabic  word  for  an  epileptic  at- 
tack. 

In  the  Journal  Asiatique  Juilett  is  of  the  opinion  that 
the  prophet's  visions  were  for  the  most  part  connected 
with  such  spells.  Other  writers  again,  in  consequence 
of  the  fits  and  other  peculiarities,  said  he  was  insane, 
while  others  declare  his  hallucinations  of  the  senses,  au- 
tomatic wanderings,  and  the  like,  but  the  eccentricities 


82  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

of  genius,  while  his  enemies  asserted  that  he  was  in  the 
power  of  Satan  and  his  agents,  the  jinnee. 

Ayesha  said  that  while  taken  ill  "  he  sometimes 
sobbed  like  a  hysterical  girl,"  and  again  *'  that  he  cried 
out  like  a  camel." 

The  premonitory  indications  of  an  attack,  although 
peculiar,  were  not  exclusive,  nor  by  any  means  unique. 
For  example, —  to  translate: 

''  One  day  while  wandering  about  the  hills  near 
Mecca  with  suicidal  intent,  he  heard  a  voice  and  look- 
ing up  beheld  Gabriel  floating  in  space,  who  assured 
him  that  he,  Mohammed,  was  the  servant  of  God. 

"  Frightened  by  this  apparition,  he  went  home,  and 
feeling  unwell,  he  had  a  fit. 

"  They  poured  water  upon  him," —  an  abominable 
thing  to  do,  yet  it  is  done  still  the  world  over, — ''  and 
when  recovering,  he  received  a  revelation,  as  follows : 
*  Oh,  thou  covered  [or  concealed]  one,  arise,  preach, 
magnify  the  Lord,  cleanse  thy  garments,  and  fly  every 
abomination." 

"  Some  authors,"  says  Weil,  "  Consider  the  fits  of 
the  Prophet  as  the  principal  evidence  of  his  mission." 
They  were  not  always  the  same,  either  in  duration  or 
quality. 

''  Sometimes  they  were  ushered  in  by  a  coldness  of 
the  extremities  and  shivering.  They  were  preceded 
often  by  depression  of  spirits  and  apprehension,  and 
were  accompanied  in  the  premonitory  stage  by  tinkling 
in  the  ears ;  airy  bells  were  ringing,  or  bees  were  swarm- 
ing, around  his  head;  his  lips  quivered,  but  this  mo- 


MOHAMMED  83 

tion  was  under  the  control  of  volition.  Then  his  eyes 
became  fixed  and  staring,  and  the  motion  of  his  head 
convulsive  and  automatic.  At  length,  after  a  few  min- 
utes, perspiration  broke  out,  the  muscles  relaxed,  and 
this  ended  the  attack. 

"  Sometimes,  though,  if  the  spell  was  violent,  he  fell 
comatose  to  the  ground,  went  into  convulsions,  his 
face  was  flushed,  respiration  stertorous,  and  he  re- 
mained thus  for  some  time." 

Bystanders,  with  perhaps  the  best  intention  sprinkled 
water  in  his  face,  as  is  done  to-day,  and  when  he  re- 
covered consciousness,  they  concluded  that  it  was  due 
to  the  water. 

"  Mohammed  himself  fancied  he  might  derive  bene- 
fit by  being  cupped  on  the  head." 


CHAPTER  IX 

"  We  do  not  need,"  says  Emerson,  ''  to  subscribe  to 
Omar  the  Great's  fanatical  compliment  to  the  Koran 
when  he  said,  '  Burn  the  libraries,  for  their  value  is  in 
this  book.  Its  sentences  contain  the  culture  of  na- 
tions, the  cornerstone  of  schools,  the  fountainhead  of 
literature,  a  discipline  in  logic,  poetry,  rhetoric,  practi- 
cal wisdom,  taste.'  "  Yet,  according  to  the  opinion  of 
certain  experts  in  Islamism,  the  Koran  was  Moham- 
med's weakest  performance,  although  it  contains  things 
that  have  kept  commentators  busy  for  centuries,  and 
it  is  certainly  the  bond  that  unites  Islam. 

It  has  been  charged  against  Mohammed  that  he  was, 
or  rather  became,  sensual,  and  therefore  that  he  was 
not  sincere  in  religion.  But  on  this  ground  we  could 
also  exclude  other  great  religious  teachers, —  Abraham, 
Solomon,  David,  ''  the  man,"  with  all  his  faults,  "  after 
God's  own  heart,"  or  Charlemagne,  for  example,  "  that 
most  Christian  king  of  the  Franks."  Yet  no  unbiased 
historian  thinks  of  doing  this  now  for  we  cannot  justly 
apply  the  standards  of  the  present  day,  when  men  and 
women  are  ostracised  from  good  society  merely  be- 
cause of  being  divorced  and  married  again,  to  other 
times,  with  their  different  ideals  and  coarser  practices. 

Take  the  Christian  world,  for  example,  before  and 
for  some  time  after  that  spiritual  awakening,  that  re- 

84 


MOHAMMED  85 

turn  to  primitive  Christian  standards  known  as  the 
Reformation,  when  licentiousness  was  the  rule,  and 
virtue  it  was  believed  could  hardly  exist  outside  of  a 
monastery,  and  such  a  thing  as  the  protection  of  the 
divorce  was  almost  unknown.  The  word  "  bastard  " 
was  in  common  use  and  "  natural  children,"  that  is  to 
say,  children  born  out  of  wedlock,  were  a  matter  of 
course.  What  king  or  ruler  or  nobleman  was  then 
thought  the  less  of  because  he  was  a  libertine  and  rob- 
ber ?  Now  so  great  is  the  improvement  that  even  such 
phrases  are  eliminated  from  the  vocabulary  of  respect- 
able persons.  And  if  a  public  man  should  be  known 
to  be  guilty  of  such  practices  to-day  as  were  common 
then  the  chances  are,  especially  among  Anglo-Saxon 
people,  that  it  would  cut  short  his  career. 

Persecuted  by  the  adherents  of  the  old  fetish  wor- 
ship, Mohammed  was  finally  compelled  to  go  to  war 
for  the  protection  of  "  pure  religion  "  and  the  oblitera- 
tion of  idolatry,  until  finally  the  victory  of  the  new 
faith  was  secured  for  all  Arabia.  Scarcely  a  century 
after  his  death  Islam  reigned  supreme  also  over  Syria, 
Persia,  important  parts  of  Egypt,  and  the  whole  of  the 
north  coast  of  Africa.  It  went  even  into  Spain  and 
still  onward,  until  ultimately  the  Crescent  was  made  to 
gleam  from  the  spire  of  St.  Sophia,  and  the  war  cry 
"  Allali  il  Allali "  was  heard  from  the  gates  of  Vienna. 

If  Mohammed  was  an  impostor, —  as  it  was  the  cus- 
tom until  about  a  half  century  ago  to  proclaim  him, — 
it  was  not  because  of  any  comfort  it  brought  him,  nor, 
as  in  the  case  of  Caesar,  because  of  ambition.     For  al- 


86  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

though,  unlike  the  benign  son  of  Joseph,  the  founder 
of  our  divine  religion,  and  according  to  the  flesh  alto- 
gether sane  and  humane,  Mohammed  was  at  times 
cunning,  revengeful,  sensual, —  but  not  as  much  so 
even  at  the  end  of  his  career  as  were  most  persons  of 
his  period, —  yet,  during  the  zenith  of  his  fame,  after 
countless  persons  had  laid  down  their  arms  and  de- 
clared him  supreme,  when  he  was  recognized  as  a 
prophet,  prince,  and  spiritual  ruler  of  conquering  mil- 
lions ready  to  give  up  their  all  for  him,  he  himself, 
scorning  material  luxury  and  personal  ease,  lived  in  a 
small  hut,  mended  his  own  clothes,  made  and  cobbled 
his  own  shoes,  freed  all  his  slaves,  attended  to  his  do- 
mestic duties  unaided,  and  gave  much  of  his  time  to 
solitary  meditation  and  prayer.  Yet, —  with  all  their 
pomp  and  pride  and  retinues  of  attendants,  poisoners, 
and  gentlemen  of  the  bedchamber,  and  cup-bear- 
ers, and  bodyguards,  and  maids  of  honor,  and  assas- 
sins ;  with  all  their  banners  and  royal  palaces ;  with  all 
the  pride  of  life  and  pomp  and  circumstances  of  war; 
with  all  their  coronets  and  crowns  and  tiaras, —  no 
man  was  ever  so  revered  and  obeyed  as  was  this  man, 
wearing  shoes  of  his  own  cobbling  and  cloaks  of  his 
own  clouting,  living  intimately  and  familiarly  in  the 
open  before  his  people,  going  out  and  in  among  them 
for  a  period  of  twenty  years  without  losing  their  high 
esteem  and  reverence. 

Until  arriving  at  years  of  discretion  and  better 
knowledge  most  men  condemn  all  religions  but  the  one 
in  which  they  were  reared.     Some  unfortunates  never 


MOHAMMED  87 

outgrow  this  undeveloped  state.  Nevertheless  such 
European  specialists  in  Islamism,  men  not  to  be  men- 
tioned without  the  respect  due  to  genius,  as  Prideaux, 
DuReger,  Jenner,  Buchardi,  Burton,  Weil,  Geiger, 
and  others,  unitedly  assert  that  Mohammedanism, 
which  began  in  illiteracy  and  superstition  and  had  its 
first  emphatic  awakening  in  the  mind  of  an  epileptic, 
may  be  said  to  be  "  the  enlightened  teacher  of  barbarous 
Europe  from  the  Ninth  to  the  Thirteenth  Century." 

"  It  is  from  the  glorious  days  of  the  Abbasides," 
says  Eberhard,  "  that  the  real  Renaissance  of  Greek 
culture  is  to  be  dated,"  a  statement  that  has  since 
gained  universal  recognition.  "  Classical  literature 
would  have  been  irredeemably  lost,"  said  another 
writer,  "  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  home  it  found  in 
the  schools  of  the  unbelievers  during  the  dark  ages." 

**  Arabic  philosophy,  medicine,  natural  history,  ge- 
ography, grammar,  rhetoric,  and  the  golden  art  of 
poetry,  schooled  by  the  old  Hellenic  masters,  produced 
an  abundant  han^est  of  works  among  Mohammedans, 
many  of  which  will  live,  and  teach  of  duty  as  long  as 
there  will  be  generations  to  learn." 


CHAPTER  X 

You  can  generally  tell  a  good  deal  about  a  man  by 
what  he  believes,  especially  by  what  he  believes  about 
the  state  of  the  dead.  That  is  the  reason  why  most 
persons  when  asked  won't  tell  you  —  it  betrays  them. 
The  abode  that  man  creates  as  a  place  of  post-mortem 
punishment  "  for  sin  and  uncleanness  and  every  trans- 
gression," as  well  as  the  place  of  reward  for  righteous- 
ness, reveals  his  views  on  many  other  things  besides. 

Mohammed,  like  the  founders  of  other  religions, 
was  not  at  all  squeamish  in  this  particular.  He  had 
no  hesitancy  about  being  misunderstood.  Indeed,  he 
took  very  particular  pains  to  emphasize  the  fact  that 
sin  should  not  go  unpunished  any  more  than  virtue 
should  go  unrewarded,  either  in  this  world  or  in  the 
world  to  come.  And  he  was  so  minutely  realistic  in 
his  descriptions  of  celestial  rewards  and  Gehenna 
punishments  that  he  left  no  room  for  doubt.  In  in- 
genuity of  invention  and  lucidity  of  description, 
amounting  at  times  to  poetry,  of  the  penalties  inflicted 
upon  the  doomed  inhabitants  of  the  abode  of  the  lost, 
in  the  dragonading  of  heretics  by  the  inquisitors  of 
Hades,  he  excels  all  his  predecessors.  Even  Dante 
and  Milton,  his  imitators,  are  but  sorry  bunglers  as 
compared  with  him. 

The  Tormentori  of  a  modern  monster,  Mantagazzi, 


MOHAMMED  89 

is  but  child's  play,  only  showing  an  utter  lack  of  imagi- 
nation as  contrasted  with  the  protracted  agonies  dis- 
covered by  Mohammed  in  some  out-of-the-way  recess 
of  his  myriad  mind  for  the  cure  and  prevention  of  all 
sorts  of  sin,  of  which  the  greatest  to  him  was  the  deny- 
ing of  the  unity  of  God.  Consequently  the  doctrine 
of  the  Trinity  is  the  vilest  of  blasphemies  to  Moham- 
medans. His  word  pictures  of  the  many  varieties  of 
punishments  imposed  upon  the  obstinately  incorrigible 
as  illustrations  of  "  retributive  justice," —  always  pro- 
duced by  the  use  of  the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold,  like 
a  tarantella  played  upon  two  strings,  and  meted  out  to 
those  who  having  heard  do  not  believe  the  Islam  veri- 
ties,—  are  marvels,  you  might  say,  of  malevolent  in- 
vention, fitted  with  much  particularity  to  special  crimes. 
He  had  a  nice  discrimination  in  this  direction,  a 
connoisseurship,  we  might  call  it,  in  the  arrangement  of 
torments,  amounting  to  art.  If  he  had  lived  in  Spain 
contemporary  with  the  Inquisition  he  would  have  made 
Torquemada  turn  pale  with  envy.  Mohammed's  pun- 
ishments, however,  unlike  that  arch-inquisitor's,  w^ere 
meted  out  to  people  departed,  that  is  to  say,  beyond  his 
reach, —  like  a  man  threatening  with  vengeance  a  bel- 
ligerent wife,  but  only  when  she  is  inaccessible  and 
outside  of  the  sound  of  his  voice, —  thus  exhibiting  a 
singular  inconsistency  in  his  make-up,  for  he  was  kind 
and  generous  by  nature  and  practice,  a  tender  father 
and  loyal  friend,  a  lover  of  mankind,  indulgent  to  hu- 
man frailty  and  even  admitting  the  lower  animals 
within  the  magic  circle  of  his  affections.     What  a  mys- 


90  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

tery  is  man !  —  and  what  a  contradiction !  —  and  what 
an  enigma!  And  what  tricks  the  devil  is  apt  to  play 
with  him!  Satan  as  a  hoodwinker  of  the  self- 
righteous  —  although  Mohammed  always  disclaimed 
that  he  was  better  than  other  men  —  has  all  the  adroit- 
ness and  cunning  of  a  past  master. 

Was  it  not  St.  Dominic  of  whom  we  are  told  that 
"  he  had  such  a  burning  zeal  for  the  things  of  God  " 
that  he  regretted  the  number  of  Albigenses  that 
through  weakness  he  allowed  to  escape  slow  fire  and 
the  rack  ?  Yet  maybe  he  was  a  heretic  himself  —  who 
can  definitely  and  infallibly  decide?  To  the  contrary, 
so  far  reaching  was  the  philanthropy  of  Mohammed 
that  he  protected  the  weak  and  cared  for  the  aged,  with 
constant  alms  giving, —  not  alms  receiving, —  an  es- 
sential part  of  the  faith  and  practice  of  Islam.  With 
the  naivete  of  the  unsophisticated  and  unspoiled,  with 
the  felicity  of  a  master  of  style,  with  the  unpremedi- 
tated charm  of  an  artist  of  words,  he  says :  "  To  give 
in  public,  to  be  seen  of  men,  is  better  than  not  to  give 
at  all.  .  .  .To  give  in  secret  as  to  God  is  best. 
.  .  .  If  you  have  nothing  to  give,  to  smile  in  your 
brother's  face  is  an  alms.  .  .  .  It  is  an  alms  to 
sympathize  with  distress  and  to  encourage  the  weak.'* 

In  spite  of  vilifications,  he  would  seem  to  have 
walked  through  the  solemnities  of  life  toward  his 
goal  as  calmly  as  Durer's  "  Knight  of  Death  "  rides 
through  its  horrors,  and  with  identical  singleness  of 
purpose;  with  no  deviation,  no  sidelong  glances  of 
timidity  or  fear,  though  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy; 


MOHAMMED  91 

accompanied  rather  with  the  resolve  that  always  ends 
in  victory,  because  connected  with  heaven-imposed 
duties,  as  if  Ich  Dien  were  his  motto.  He  did  not 
need  to  go  out  of  his  way  to  be  heroic.  He  was  ever 
the  most  domestic  of  men  and  amiable  of  friends,  the 
playmate  of  his  children,  to  whom  he  was  as  devoted 
as  a  nursing  mother,  taking  an  interest  even  in  their 
dolls,  as  if  he  were  a  paid  attendant.  Nothing  of  a 
veiled  prophet  was  he,  living  as  he  did  in  close  and 
humble  intimacy  for  years  with  his  followers,  without 
diminution  of  their  high  esteem  and  reverence.  He 
would  have  been  a  hero,  even  to  his  valet,  if  he  had 
had  one. 

Whether  he  was  a  camel  driver,  or  a  shepherd,  or 
a  preacher,  or  a  soldier,  or  a  conqueror,  or  a  legislator, 
he  was  always  a  poet,  sometimes  a  philosopher,  and  he 
was  ever  thus  overflowing  with  kindness,  with  little 
acts  of  personal  attention  and  self-sacrifice,  and  with 
all  the  gentle  lambencies  of  home  life  "  that  adorned 
it,"  as  was  said  in  the  figurative  Oriental  way,  '*  like 
jewels  around  the  neck." 


CHAPTER  XI 

It  was  not  until  after  the  death  of  Cadijah,  his  first 
wife,  that  he  availed  himself  of  the  custom  of  his 
country  and  took  a  plurality  of  wives.  This  the  weak- 
ness of  his  career,  inconsistent  with  his  own  teachings 
and  laws,  was  claimed  as  the  prerogative  of  the 
prophet,  which  was  not  to  be  repeated  by  his  followers, 
but  which  nevertheless  laid  him  open  to  the  charge  of 
being  an  impostor.  This  was  the  most  compromising 
occurrence  in  his  history.  It  was  the  cause  of  most 
adverse  criticism  and  perhaps  of  the  subsequent  de- 
terioration of  his  followers. 

Some  of  these  marriages,  it  was  said,  were  but  for 
reasons  of  state;  as,  for  example,  his  marriages  with 
Ayesha,  the  daughter  of  Abu  Beker :  Sweda,  the  daugh- 
ter of  Zama,  and  Haphsa,  the  daughter  of  Omar, —  the 
St.  Paul  we  might  call  him  of  Islam, —  thereby  making 
himself  the  son-in-law  of  three  of  the  most  powerful 
of  his  contemporaries.  These  polygamous  unions  were 
much  emphasized  by  his  enemies  and  exposed  him  to 
charges  of  insincerity.  Yet  they  may  have  been 
pathologic  rather  than  immoral,  no  more  implying 
vice  than  it  would  imply  such  a  condition  for  certain 
chlorotic  patients  to  eat  lime  from  a  plastered  wall,  or 
clay  from  a  garden,  or  for  others  to  be  unable  to  avoid 
varicose  veins  or  dropsy,  each  equally  due  to  disease, 

92 


MOHAMMED  93 

being  the  result  of  hypertrophy  and  tissue  degenera- 
tion, over  which  the  patient  has  but  httle  control. 

Mohammed,  after  the  death  of  his  wife,  with  whom 
he  lived  inviolably  for  over  twenty  years, was  prema- 
turely an  old  man.  Then  he  began  to  exhibit  the 
vagary,  the  grotesque  mania,  for  marrying  widows, 
which  he  did  to  the  number  of  nine.  It  is  during  these 
periods  of  physical  and  mental  disintegration  that  old 
men  often  at  the  end  of  blameless  lives  become  the  vic- 
tims of  moral  aberrations,  thus  stultifying  and  abro- 
gating their  continent  past.  Tragedies  these,  in  spite 
of  Balzac-laughter,  which,  while  they  make  the 
thoughtless  and  inconsiderate  merry,  make  the  judi- 
cious grieve,  and  bring  wretchedness  to  families.  This 
is  suggested  as  a  solution  of  the  shame-producing  sensu- 
ality which  sometimes  appears  at  the  conclusion  of 
otherwise  blameless  and  chaste  lives, —  not  only  Mo- 
hammed's but  other  men's  as  well, —  and  which  needs 
private  medical  attention  and  control  rather  than  public 
exposure  and  censure. 

If  a  man  having  lived  an  exemplary  life,  and  near- 
ing  the  end  of  it,  breaks  out  into  acts  of  immorality, 
there  is  usually  pathology  at  the  bottom  of  it,  demand- 
ing more  the  aid  of  the  physician  than  of  the  divine. 
It  is  often  morbid  anatomy  rather  than  Circe  that 
causes  men,  sometimes  old  men  too,  "  to  lose  their 
upright  shape,  and  become  like  groveling  swine."  We 
have  known  several  such  instances. 

But  to  return.  There  is  no  stupid  uniformity  in 
the  infliction  of  agony  in  the  Hell  of   Mohammed, 


94  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY, 

where  all  varieties  of  sinner,  as  with  us,  from  the  con- 
scientious doubter,  often  as  much  afraid  of  sin  and 
as  much  given  to  good  works  as  a  saint,  to  the  blas- 
phemer, thief,  drunkard,  parricide,  and  perjurer  are 
promiscuously   dumped   into  the  same   Gehenna  and 
singed  with  the  same  flames  and  roasted  as  St.  Law- 
rence was  on  the  same  gridiron.     The  Moslem  place 
of  the  condemned,  if  you  please,  is  divided  into  seven 
sections,  not  nine  circles  or  flats,  as  in  Dante,   but 
something  like  a  Chicago  apartment  house,  or  rather 
apartment  store,  where  you  always  get  what  you  don't 
want  and  there  is  no  redress.     And  as  the  delights  of 
Paradise  are  suited  to  the  gratification  of  each  of  the 
five  senses,  so  the  torments  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
kingdom   presided   over  by   fallen   angels   consist,   as 
has  been  said,  of  extremes  of  heat  and  cold,  which 
are  nicely  adapted  to  the  many  classes  of  transgressors. 
Dante,  numerically  more  generous  without  showing 
any  necessity   for   it,   divides  his   rendezvous  of   the 
wicked  into   nine   circles.     But   his   methods  of  pro- 
ducing anguish,  horrible  as  they  are,  are  coarse  and 
commonplace    compared   with   those   of    Mohammed. 
In  the  matter  of  invention,  what,  for  example,  could 
be  more  ingenious  or  more  graphically  described  as  a 
possible  prophylactic  against  sin  than  the  infliction  said 
to  be  the  lightest  in  the  whole  cycle  of  autos  da  fe  in 
the   Hades  of   Islam,   which   consists   in   the  victim's 
being  *'  shod  with  sandals  of  fire  so  hellish  hot  that 
they  make  his  brain  boil  in  his  skull  like  broth  in  a 
cauldron!  " 


MOHAMMED  9'S 

This,  though,  according  to  its  inventor,  mercifully 
is  to  be  endured  only  for  a  period  of  from  seven  hun- 
dred to  nine  thousand  years  —  the  prophet  is  very  par- 
ticular about  the  length  of  the  period  and  the  nature 
of  the  dominant  sin  to  be  thus  cancelled,  after  which 
the  sinner  may  be  released.  For  crimes  committed  by 
the  faithful,  also  by  Jews  and  Christians,  are  always 
expiated  by  limited  post-mortem  suffering.  Only  in- 
corrigible infidels  are  tormented  forever. 

Or  what  could  be  more  blood-curdling  and  ner^'e- 
shattering  than  the  bridge  from  earth  to  heaven,  ''  as 
thin  as  a  hair  and  as  sharp  as  a  razor,"  stretched  across 
the  yawning  crater  of  the  abyss  filled  with  tor- 
mented multitudes,  over  which  the  faithful  have  to 
pass  on  their  way  to  paradise?  The  merest  misstep, 
and  headlong  they  go  into  the  pit  that  alternately  burns 
and  freezes  forever.  They  are  pitched  as  if  mere 
''  eye  of  newt  or  tongue  of  dog "  into  the  cauldron 
of  Hecate,  everlasting  and  alternately  freezing  and 
boiling.  Yet  how  full  of  symbolism,  say  the  be- 
lievers, how  well  adapted  it  was,  and  perhaps  still  is 
thought  to  be  by  multitudes,  to  deter  the  arrogantly 
superstitious  and  indolently  credulous  from  apostasy. 
It  shows,  too,  that  not  many  men  were  as  capable  of 
transmuting  leaden  words  into  the  Empyrean  of  pure 
thought,  and  untrammeled  imagination,  and  down- 
right horror  as  this  inspired  camel  driver. 

Thus  the  poet  in  him,  the  Creator,  with  the  best  in- 
tentions, getting  his  cue  perhaps  from  the  gross  Chris- 
tianity of  the  times,  gives  "  to  airy  nothingness  a  local 


96  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

habitation  and  a  name,"  adapting  his  teachings,  as  he 
thought,  to  the  reformation  of  the  corrupt  nature  of 
man,  especially  of  the  man  of  the  Orient,  and  to  the 
eradication  of  the  vices  and  the  frailties  to  which  it  is 
said  he  is  universally  addicted.  For  licentiousness, 
drunkenness,  gambling,  and  all  that  invariably  follow 
in  their  wake  the  world  over  —  like  the  phosphorescent 
trail  following  a  ship  in  the  night  —  existed  to  so  great 
an  extent  among  his  countrymen  and  most  Sem- 
itic races  previous  to  his  time,  "  alienating  them,"  as  he 
said,  "  from  God."  The  purpose  of  his  mission  was  to 
restore  them  to  their  lost  estate,  and  to  enable  degen- 
erate man  to  turn  from  sin  and  cultivate  righteousness. 

Fasting  is  a  duty  of  so  much  moment,  according  to 
the  teachings  of  the  Prophet,  that  he  called  it  *'  the 
gate  of  religion."  In  his  fine  figurative  way,  he  said, 
"  The  odor  of  the  mouth  of  him  who  fasteth  is  more 
grateful  to  God  than  that  of  musk."  Musk  is  the 
odor  par  excellence  of  Islamism.  The  ravishing  but 
modest  and  impeccable  creatures  "  feeding  on  fra- 
grance "  with  which,  for  the  felicity  of  the  faithful, 
he  peopled  paradise  are  made  of  pure  musk,  and  odor- 
iferous exhalations  of  the  same  perfume  regale  the 
nostrils  of  the  faithful  throughout  eternity.  Moham- 
med's fondness  for  pleasant  odors  and  for  the  taste  of 
milk,  which  with  honey  and  figs  constituted  nearly  all 
his  diet,  were  pronounced  characteristics. 

Take,  too,  his  great  achievements, —  the  abolition  of 
the  law  of  primogeniture,  which  had  rooted  itself  into 
the  life  of  Arabia  for  ages;  the  shattering  of  adaman- 


MOHAMMED  97 

tine  caste,  out  of  which  before  his  time  release  was 
impossible;  his  ignoring  of  social  and  racial  distinc- 
tions, to  the  extent  of  declaring  all  believers  equal  — 
blacks,  whites,  buffs,  and  saffrons  are  all  alike  to 
Islam,  and  even  the  slave  the  moment  he  becomes  a 
Moslem  is  the  same  as  a  free  man.  There  was  no 
rousing  of  religious  zeal  among  his  followers  by  in- 
sidious social  distinctions  or  promises  of  promotion. 
It  was  a  proclamation  of  the  opposite  that  won  to  his 
standard  so  many  of  the  countless  millions  of  India. 
Caesar  allured  his  soldiers  by  the  offer  of  spoils;  Mo- 
hammed, by  promises  of  paradise,  although  spoils 
finally  became  an  incentive  to  loyalty. 

His  dangerous  doctrine,  too,  of  the  insignificance 
of  the  relationship  of  blood  and  kindred  as  compared 
with  the  relationship  of  creed  at  first  glance  might  be 
thought  likely  to  stultify  his  standing,  at  least  with 
his  family. 

Faith,  he  taught,  was  a  stronger  bond  than  race  or 
consanguinity,  though  not  because  he  disregarded  the 
sacredness  of  clan  and  kinship. 

His  claim  after  years  of  meditation  of  being  the  suc- 
cessor of  Christ,  the  promised  holy  spirit  or  paraclete 
sent,  not  to  destroy,  but  to  complete  Christ's  mission, 
was  first  successfully  preached  to  his  ozvn  inujiediafe 
family,  then  to  his  other  relatives.  This  fact  shows 
and  all  his  teachings  evidence  that  like  St.  Paul  he 
believed  that  he  who  provides  not  for  his  own,  espe- 
cially those  of  his  own  household,  hath  denied  the  faith 
and  is  w^orse  than  an  infidel.     It  was  not,  then,  that 


98  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

he  regarded  the  bonds  of  family  less,  but  that  he  re- 
garded the  bonds  of  similarity  and  identity  of  belief 
more. 

Thus  at  least  three  great  reformations  were  effected 
by  him  without  belligerent  contention,  any  one  of  which 
by  any  other  man,  judging  from  what  we  know  of  the 
past,  would  have  cost  rivers  of  tears  and  thousands  of 
lives.  But  with  him,  because  of  recognition  of  his  ex- 
alted ideals,  they  were  accomplished  without  the  shed- 
ding of  blood.  Thus  this  epileptic  and  reformer 
of  personality  and  promoter  of  polished  manners,  this 
restorer,  as  he  claims,  of  the  pure  religion  revealed  by 
God  to  Noah,  Abraham,  Moses,  and,  greatest  of  all, 
Jesus,  accomplished  achievements  so  great  that,  like 
Dryden's  Sejinus,  he  might  be  thought  to  be  "  not 
one,  but  all  mankind's  epitome." 

I  go  thus  into  the  various  ramifications  of  the  mind 
of  the  founder  of  "  the  true  faith,"  as  indicated  by 
what  he  accomplished  and  thought,  in  order  to  esti- 
mate his  character  without  prejudice,  to  exhibit  its 
timber  and  quahty,  the  profundity  of  its  emotions;  to 
conjure  again  into  visibility  the  abstractions  converted 
into  realities  that  must  have  haunted  his  meditations, 
and  that  accompanied  his  visions;  to  show  how  unim- 
paired his  reason  was  in  every  faculty,  how  varied,  yet 
how  generally  free  from  the  incongruous  and  bizarre. 
This  idea  of  being  free  from  the  bizarre  will  not  apply 
certainly  to  his  ideas  of  the  pleasures  of  paradise;  yet 
even  they  are  capable  of  a  better  interpretation  than 
appears  on  the  surface,  since  we  can  only  express  the 


MOHAMMED  99 

unseen  and  unrealized  felicity  by  the  seen  and  experi- 
enced. 

This  certainly  ought  to  give  encouragement  to  edu- 
cated epileptics,  who,  just  because  of  the  very  conse- 
cjuent  keenness  of  their  susceptibilities,  are  ever  appre- 
hensive of  mental  breakdown.  We  are  being  con- 
sulted daily  by  chronic  sufferers,  past  middle  life,  with 
all  their  facidties  in  fidl  vigor,  and,  but  for  the  atmos- 
phere of  dread  engendered  by  pessimism,  capable  of 
fine  work,  yet  hesitating  about  engaging  in  the  very 
thing, —  suitable  employment, —  which  is  an  important 
factor  in  bringing  about  cure. 

Except  the  domestic  relation,  which,  judging  by  our 
better  standards,  is  to  us  not  only  the  dead  but  putrid 
fly  in  his  pot  of  ointment,  the  ethics  of  Mohammed 
are  of  the  highest  order  and  everything  ^'  the  Saxon 
people  have  included  under  the  term  Christian  gentle- 
man "  is  insisted  upon  by  Islam. 

In  faith  and  practice,  in  everything  but  polygamy, 
and  his  polygamy  was  copied  after  that  of  the  Patri- 
archs and  Prophets,  Mohammed  was  a  Christian, — 
that  is  to  say,  he  believed  in  the  divinity,  not  the  deity, 
of  Christ,  that  He  was  the  Sent  of  God.  He  believed 
also  in  the  inspiration  of  Scripture,  that  God  is  Aiictor 
utriusque  Testameiiti,  and  with  St.  Paul,  Oninis  scrip- 
tiira  divinitus  inspirata.  He  believed,  too,  what  Christ 
taught  about  a  future  of  rewards  and  punishment. 
He  also  accepted  the  miracles,  but  in  common  with 
Protestant  Christians  he  believed  they  ended  with 
Christ  and  His  immediate  disciples. 


loo  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

There  is  no  moral  precept  in  the  Bible,  it  has  been 
said,  that  is  not  found  to  be  inculcated  by  Islamism, 
embellished  often  by  the  fine  poetic  genius  of  Arabia, 
except  that  instead  of  perplexing  creed  formulated  by 
subsequent  theology  they  have  simply  the  '*  I  believe 
in  God  and  the  doctrines  respecting  Him  taught  by  the 
preacher  Mohammed."     This  is  the  whole  creed. 

Instead  of  clergymen  every  Mussulman  was  his  own 
priest;  instead  of  monasteries  they  had  schools. 

Now,  however,  there  are  mosques,  where  as  many  as 
thirty  relays  of  priests  take  the  reading  of  the  Koran 
in  succession  and  get  through  the  whole  book  each 
day. 

For  twelve  hundred  years  the  voice  of  the  book, 
in  the  same  tongue,  has  kept  sounding  thus  through 
the  ears  and  hearts  of  millions  of  men.  There  are 
Mohammedan  doctors  who  have  read  the  Koran 
seventy  thousand  times !  "  What  a  reflection  on  the 
national  taste !  "  says  Thomas  Carlyle. 

We  say,  "  The  blood  of  martyrs  is  the  seed  of  the 
church."  One  of  the  traditional  sayings  of  Moham- 
med that  is  recorded  in  the  Sunna  and  that  the  Moslem 
boy  to-day  writes  in  his  copy-book  is,  "  The  ink  of 
scholars  is  as  good  as  the  blood  of  martyrs." 

In  regard  to  Mohammedan  scholarship  it  has  been 
shown  that  "  when  the  European  world  was  clouded 
in  barbarity  and  ignorance,  when  sovereign  princes 
could  neither  read  nor  write,  the  Arabians  rivaled  the 
Romans  of  the  Augustan  age  in  erudition  and  genius, 
while,   with  a  more  extensive  empire,   they  excelled 


MOHAMMED  loi 

them  in  magnificence  and  in  the  more  refined  splendor 
and  elegance  of  life."  Men  eminent  in  every  branch 
of  learning  have  emerged  from  the  ranks  of  Islam. 

"  The  Caliphs  Al  Moahi,  Al  Rashia,  Al  Mahmoan, 
and  other  monarchs  of  the  illustrious  house  of  Al 
Abbas  v^^ere  men  of  learning.  Genius  and  politeness, 
scholarship  and  literature,  were  found  then  the  surest 
avenue  to  royal  favor.  They  v^ere  a  universally  cul- 
tivated people :  princes,  generals,  vizirs,  being  not  only 
magnificent  patrons  of  art  and  letters,  but  held  them- 
selves conspicuous  places  among  writers  of  the  most 
distinguished  class." 

This  you  might  expect,  since  the  first  converts  of 
Mohammed  after  his  own  wife  and  household  were 
men  of  high  social  position. 

When  the  monks  for  nearly  a  thousand  years 
gathered  manuscripts  into  the  monasteries  for  the  pur- 
pose of  erasing  from  them  the  words  of  classic  writers 
and  modestly  substituting  their  own,  Mohammedans 
were  establishing  schools  for  the  study  of  the  Ancients 
and  for  their  introduction  among  the  people. 

As  an  illustration  not  only  of  the  tolerance,  but  of 
the  preeminence  of  Islam, —  only  about  two  hundred 
years,  too,  after  the  death  of  Mohammed, —  Haroon 
Al  Raschid,  Lord  of  Asia  from  Africa  to  India,  in 
appreciation  of  the  altruistic  greatness  of  Charlemagne 
and  his  interest  in  education,  sent  ambassadors  to  him 
from  his  magnificent  capital  of  Bagdad,  with  presents 
of  silken  tents,  an  elephant,  a  water  clock,  and  w^hat 
United  Europe  was  unable  to  take  and  keep,  the  keys 


102  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

of  the  holy  sepulchre,  which  he  generously  presented 
as  a  gift. 

Sir  William  Jones  in  his  book,  "  The  Literature  of 
Asia,"  asserts  that  the  Mohammedans  are  commanded 
by  their  lawgiver  to  search  for  learning,  even  to  the 
remotest  parts  of  the  earth.  And  Mr.  Morris,  in  the 
"  History  of  Hindustan,"  says  that  the  zeal  for  the 
encouragement  of  learning  which  animated  the  Ara- 
bian princes  continued  to  glow  with  almost  equal 
fervor  in  the  breast  of  the  Tartar  monarchs,  their 
conquerors  and  successors. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Showing  how  interpenetrated  the  Prophet's  mind 
was  with  the  often  latent  instinct  of  bodily  purity  as 
a  symbol  of  the  purity  of  God,  he  taught  that  personal 
cleanliness  was  essential  to  Islamism,  and  so  anxious 
was  he  that  his  followers  should  be  punctual  in  this 
preeminently  religious  duty  —  the  Turkish  bath  is  a 
Mohammedan  evolution  —  that  he  declared  the  prac- 
tice of  genuine  religion  to  be  founded  on  cleanliness, 
which  is  **  one-half  of  the  faith,"  he  said,  "  and  the  key 
of  prayer,  without  which  God  will  not  hear  prayer." 

The  idea  of  persons  approaching  the  Lord  in  worship 
without  purifying  ablutions  is  so  abhorrent  to  the 
Moslem,  that,  in  order  to  facilitate  cleanliness,  in  every 
mosque  are  great  tanks  perforated  with  many  aper- 
tures, through  which  are  constantly  escaping  streams 
of  pure  water.  These  are  for  the  washing  of  the 
faithful,  thus  anticipating,  at  least  as  far  as  personal 
cleanliness  is  concerned,  by  some  twelve  centuries  John 
Wesley's  dictum  declaring  "  cleanliness  to  be  next  to 
godliness."  See  Dollinger  s  ''  Mohammed's  Reli- 
gion nach  ihrer  innern  Entwickelung  und  ihren  Ein- 
flusse  auf  das  Leben  Volker";  also  Sale's  introduction 
to  his  translation  of  the  Koran. 

That  the  above  Mohammedan  expressions  about 
purification  might  be  understood  in  their  spiritual  sense 

103 


I04  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

also,  the  sense  in  which  the  Prophet  meant  them,  Al 
Ghazah,  a  celebrated  commentator  of  the  Koran  and 
Sunna,  records  four  degrees  of  purification.  First,  the 
cleansing  of  the  body  from  material  defilement;  sec- 
ond, the  cleansing  of  the  members  of  the  body  from 
wickedness,  including  the  eyes  from  seeing  evil,  the 
hands  and  other  members  from  doing  evil,  the  ears 
from  hearing  evil,  and  the  tongue  from  uttering  it, 
which  will  remind  the  reader  of  a  familiar  Japanese 
picture ;  third,  the  purification  of  the  heart  from  vicious 
inclinations;  fourth,  the  cleansing  of  man's  thoughts 
from  affections  that  interfere  with  devotion  to  God. 

Indeed,  too,  we  might  almost  believe  that  when  per- 
sonal cleanliness  is  alluded  to  by  the  Koran,  personal 
pulchritude,  comeliness,  is  included  or  implied,  for  the 
author  had  the  poet's  eye  for  beauty, —  belle  tournure, 
—  in  everything  to  a  marked  degree.  The  beautiful 
personality  was  always  expressed  by  the  beautifully 
pellucid  body,  as  if  *'  made  of  pure  musk."  For  musk, 
as  has  been  said,  and  other  exhilarating  and  soothing 
odors,  the  manufacture  of  which  was  reduced  to  a 
science  by  the  Saracens,  are  omnipresent  factors  in 
the  enrichment  of  Moslem  ante-mortem  life  as  well  as 
in  the  state  of  the  departed  in  Paradise.  A  condition 
this  which  would  imply  high-strung  sensibility  on  the 
part  of  its  founder.  Evidently  he  had  keen  nerves  as 
well  as  a  special  delight  in  pleasant  odors. 

He  was  so  fond  of  sweet  smells  and  so  susceptible 
to  the  opposite  that  he  did  not  care  to  have  a  man 
visit  him  who  had  eaten  garlic,  or  who  was  not  per- 


MOHAMMED  105 

fectly  clean.  All  bad  odors  were  so  offensive  to  him, 
his  olfactories  were  so  keen  to  all  scents,  that  there  is 
a  possibility  that  his  seizures  were  sometimes  due  to 
fetid  exhalations. 

We  have  seen  two  attacks  of  convulsions  caused  by 
malodorous  vapors,  and  the  text-books  have  recorded 
a  few  similar  illustrations.  Hallucinations  of  smell, 
and  indeed  a  hypersesthetic  condition  of  all  the  senses, 
is  a  rather  common  concomitant  of  epilepsy. 

Such  phrases  as  *'  redolent  of  sweet  smells,"  "  spice- 
scented  breezes,"  "  thuriferous  zephyrs  from  the  place 
of  the  departed,"  "  muscadine  of  odorous  perfumes," 
'*  balm-saturated,"  "  fragrant  as  the  rose  in  the  garden 
of  Allah,"  "  bergamot  bliss  from  the  fields  of  Samar- 
cand,"  "  perfume-laden  like  the  breath  of  houri,"  —  if 
we  may  be  permitted  to  glean  in  the  overabundant 
fields  of  Boaz, —  are  familiar  and  frequent  allusions  to 
odors  in  the  literature  of  Islam,  showing  an  unusual 
development  of  the  sense  of  smell. 

In  the  Occident  pleasant  odors  were  used  to  con- 
ceal fetid  odors.  With  the  Mussulman  they  were  used 
to  enrich  life,  and  Mohammed  seems  to  have  been  the 
first  of  the  Arabians  to  take  special  delight  in  the 
particular  gratification  of  this  special  sense. 

The  perfumery  of  Arabia  since  the  days  of  the 
Prophet  has  found  a  ready  market  in  all  climes, 
Shakespeare  knew  this.  You  may  remember  that  long 
before  his  time  he  makes  the  remorse-haunted  Lady 
Macbeth,  in  the  remote  castle  of  Dunsinane  in  far- 
away Scotland,  exclaim  in  her  somnambulistic  agony, 


io6  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

"  All  the  perfumes  of  Arabia  will  not  sweeten  this 
little  hand.  Oh!  oh!  oh!"  As  if  then  nothing 
would. 

It  may  be  noted,  too,  in  consequence  of  the  subse- 
quent devotion  of  the  co-religionists  of  Mohammed  to 
all  the  sciences,  that  it  was  Arabian  physicians  and 
physiologists  that  transferred  the  seat  of  the  emotions, 
of  thought,  and  of  perception  from  the  heart  and  liver 
to  the  brain.  The  most  skillful  anatomists  and  chem- 
ists and  the  most  prolific  discoverers  in  connection 
with  the  sciences  were  Saracens.  Many  of  the  old- 
time  chemical  phrases  were  of  Arabic  origin:  as, — 
alcohol,  alembic,  and  the  like,  which  proclaim  this  de- 
votion to  difficult  study.  It  is  strange,  too,  that  this 
victim  of  epilepsy  from  his  first  years  until  his  death, 
this  camel  driver  and  companion  chiefly  of  drovers  un- 
til his  twenty-fifth  year,  of  whom  nothing  worthy  of 
record  appeared  in  his  life  until  his  fortieth  year — -a 
period  when  many  of  the  great  of  the  earth  have  made 
their  mark  —  should  have  had  such  a  profound  sense 
of  the  just,  the  beautiful,  and  the  appropriate. 

So  profound  indeed  was  this  sense  that  a  system  of 
aesthetics  has  been  occasioned  by  his  preferences  and 
restrictions,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  has  resulted  in  the 
most  elaborate  and  altogether  delightful  architecture, 
the  most  intricate  system  of  decoration,  and  the  most 
beautiful  and  harmonious  arrangement  of  color  that 
the  world  has  ever  seen,  picturesque  in  every  particu- 
lar, from  mosque  to  personal  adornment,  from  civic 
garments  to  military  accouterments,  from  furnishings 


MOHAMMED  107 

of  the  horse  to  furnishings  of  the  house.     They  have 
the  most  beautiful  carpets  and  draperies  —  only  in  the 
application  of  machinery  to  the  arts  are  they  deficient. 
And  then  their  buildings  !  —  who,  traveling  in  Spain 
or  in  the  Orient,  has  failed  to  notice  them?     What 
magnificence!     Apparitions    of    cloud-capped    domes, 
like  the  enchantments  of  a  more  subtle  Prospero ;  sky- 
piercing  minarets ;  alluring  vistas ;  secluded  arcades ; 
shaded  retreats;  luminous  resorts;  rainbow  fountains 
of  rippling  water;  gardens  of   delight;  towers   fash- 
ioned like  gems  and  finished  like  the  setting  of  jewelry; 
enamel-embroidered    surfaces    of    interlacing,    parti- 
colored lines,  blending  into  one  another  like  chords  of 
music  in  a  symphony ;  emblazoned  traceries,  ever  glow- 
ing, "  untwisting  all  the  chords  that  tie  the  hidden  soul 
of  harmony  ";  forests  of  columns,  inviting  contempla- 
tion and  repose,  slender,  lissom,  like  spectral  columns 
occurring  to  the  mind  in  sleep.     Not  only  are  the  mag- 
nificent shrines  of  Islam  in  Egypt  and  India  splendid 
illustrations    of    characteristic    Saracenic   architecture, 
but  Vv^herever  they  carried  their  conquering  arms  this 
new  style  of  art  is  seen  to  arise.     Not  only  in  the 
mosque  and  private  houses  of  Cairo  but  also  in  those 
of    Damascus,    Kairowan,    Cardova,    Seville,    Egypt, 
Syria,    Mesopotamia,    Persia,    North    Africa,    Spain, 
Sicily,  and  the  Baleric  Islands  can  be  traced  the  influ- 
ence of  the  art  and  the  ornamentation  variously  known 
as    Arabic,    Mohammedan,    Moorish,    and    Saracenic, 
having  its  origin  and  elaboration  in  the  teachings  of 
Mohammed's  book,  the  Koran. 


io8  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY   . 

*'  Bagdad   shrines   of   fretted   gold, 
High-walled    gardens,    green    and    old," 

as  seen  only  in  a  dream;  gorgeous  pageantry  of  the 
illimitable  inane,  like  cloud  battlemented  tropical 
heavens  at  sunset,  composed  of  sea-foam  and  sky,  and 
blending  every  color  and  tint;  arabesques  of  endless 
complications  and  infinite  symmetry,  revealing  like  the 
parts  of  a  composition  by  Titian  the  very  soul  of 
chromatic  harmony, —  light  enough  to  float  in  space 
like  a  cloud,  yet  durable  as  the  hills. 

"  In   Xanadu    did    Kublakhan 
A  stately  pleasure-dome   decree, 
Where  Alph,  the  sacred  river,  ran 
Through   caverns   measureless   to  man 
Down  to  a  sunless   sea; 
So  twice  twelve  miles  of  fertile  ground 
With    walls    and    towers    were    girdled    round." 

This,  the  language  of  poetry  and  fable,  could  hardly 
be  applied  to  any  other  art  but  the  landscape  art  and 
architecture,  flowing  from  the  fertile  garden  of  the 
Koran  and  "  Traditions  of  the  Prophet."  Nor  could 
the  following  prose,  from  "  Purchase's  Pilgrimage," 
which  was  quoted  by  Coleridge  and  which  suggested 
the  above:  "Here  the  Khan  [Arabic  for  king], 
Eubla,  commanded  a  palace  to  be  built,  and  a  stately 
garden  therewith,  and  thus  ten  miles  of  fertile  ground 
were  enclosed  with  a  wall." 

After  reading  this,  the  poet  fell  asleep  and  composed 
the  poem  from  which  the  above  quotation  is  taken. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Islam,  meaning  submission  to  God,  as  instituted  by 
its  founder,  Mohammed,  was  essentially  a  spiritual 
and  personal  religion.  If  he  had  seen  or  known  a 
good  example  of  Christianity,  we  have  felt  that  he 
might  likely  have  been  altogether  a  Christian.  But 
the  Christianity  of  his  day  and  country  was  so  mon- 
grel that  it  repulsed  rather  than  attracted  serious  men. 

Islamism  had  no  priest  in  the  western  sense,  and 
no  sacrifice.  No  person  was  allowed  to  come  between 
the  human  soul  and  God.  It  was  so  purely  deistic  and 
so  much  opposed  to  idolatry  that  it  forbade  the  repre- 
sentation of  living  things  either  as  objects  of  use  or  of 
admiration,  decoration,  veneration,  or  worship.  Mo- 
hammed disliked  images  more  intensely  than  did 
the  iconoclasts  of  Constantinople,  or  the  soldiers  of 
William  the  Silent,  or  the  Roundheads  of  Cromwell. 
But  let  not  the  reader  imagine,  as  is  the  common  cus- 
tom, that  these  men  opposed  religious  pictures  and 
plastic  representations  of  the  deity  because  they  were 
opposed  to  beauty  or  art.  It  was  not  that  they  thought 
less  of  art,  but  more  of  God,  that,  like  the  ancient  He- 
brews, they  objected  to  material  representation  of  Him 
fashioned  from  wood,  stone,  paint,  or  clay  by  the  hand 
of  man. 

Every  mosque  and  home  also,  as  indicated  above, 

109 


no  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

bear  witness  to  this;  statuary  and  pictures  being  for- 
bidden, even  as  decorations.  Variegated  marble,  fes- 
toons of  lamps,  geometric  shapes,  and  tortuous  inscrip- 
tions from  the  sacred  writings  take  their  place,  and 
form  that  peculiar  species  of  ornamentation,  confined 
to  the  inanimate  w^orld,  which  we  call  arabesque.  Yet, 
even  Gothic  architecture  owes  much  to  Moorish,  in 
particular  the  horseshoe  or  crescent  arch.  And  the 
pointed  arch  itself  is  to  be  found  in  many  early 
mosques  previous  to  the  Gothic.  St.  Mark's  in  Venice 
owes  its  peculiar  charm  to  Moslem  influence,  for  the 
Venetians  at  one  time  were  closely  connected  with  the 
Moors.  Shakespeare,  our  favorite  historian,  knew 
this.  "  Othello,  the  Moor  of  Venice,"  taken  from  an 
Italian  story,  and  m.any  other  native  Italian  produc- 
tions show  signs  of  Saracenic  suggestion. 

As  we  have  seen,  Mohammed  had  frequent  halluci- 
nations both  of  sight  and  hearing,  and  perhaps  of 
smell,  a  rather  common  epileptic  condition.  In  desper- 
ation and  sorrow  of  soul  —  for  like  most  great  men  he 
was  subject  to  periods  of  profound  sadness  —  when  he 
had  ascended  Mount  Hira  on  a  certain  occasion,  with 
the  intention  of  committing  suicide,  he  beheld,  he  tells 
us,  "  the  archangel  Gabriel  standing  on  the  verge  of 
the  horizon  and  heard  his  voice  saying,  *  I  am  Gabriel, 
and  thou  art  the  Prophet  of  God.'  "  He  stood  en- 
tranced, incapable  of  motion,  until  his  always  devoted 
wife  sent  out  servants  to  find  him  and  bring  him  home. 

His  visions  and  revelations  in  connection  with 
seizures,  or  during  an  attack  of  automatism,  were  al- 


AlOHAMMED  iii 

ways  thus  exalted.  His  descriptions  of  them  are  as 
stately  as  if  uttered  by  Elijah,  as  florid  as  if  written 
by  Chaucer  or  Spenser,  for  he  had  the  poet's  gift  of 
luminous  and  picturesque  expression,  always  abound- 
ing in  tropes  and  metaphors. 

Except  Shakespeare  and  John  Bunyan  no  one  had 
clearer  views  of  what  he  saw.  He  beheld  what  he 
described,  and  expressed  it  in  language  lambent,  with 
embellishments  that  charm,  with  sincerity  that  con- 
vinces. 

He  not  only  possessed  the  poet's  gift  of  expression, 
but  also  the  intense  affection  of  the  poet.  He  had  the 
disinterestedness  of  poetic  nature,  ever  ready  to  deny 
self  and  to  give  to  others,  or,  like  Socrates  or 
Diogenes  or  any  Stoic,  ever  aiming  to  reduce  his  pos- 
sessions to  the  merest  essentials. 

The  defect  of  Alohammedanism  is  polygamy,  and 
this  was  copied  from  the  Old  Testament,  and  likely  in 
time  will  correct  itself,  as  it  has  done  among  the  Jews, 
for  polygamy  is  impracticable.  Yet  the  morality  of 
the  humblest  soldier  in  the  Prophet's  army,  it  has  been 
said,  was  as  high  above  the  morality  of  many  of  even 
the  Greek  and  Roman  leaders  as  the  stars  of  heaven 
are  exalted  above  the  starfish  of  the  sea.  That  is, 
there  is  no  comparison,  and  people  familiar  with  Greek 
and  Latin  life  know  that  there  is  none.  Yet  there  are 
^those  who  assert  that  the  world  is  no  better  to-day  than 
it  was  before  the  proclamation  of  the  Ten  Command- 
ments or  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 

Christian  chastity  was  proclaimed  from  heaven  to 


112  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

such  an  unheard-of  refinement  that  the  Divine  Teacher 
said  that  **  he  who  even  looketh  at  a  woman  unbecom- 
ingly is  guilty  of  unchastity  in  his  heart." 

Much  has  been  said  about  Mohammedanism  in  this 
particular.  It  has  been  accused  of  authorizing  all  the 
vices  of  the  west,  rather  than  restricting  them.  But 
what  are  we  to  say  about  the  same  vices  in  Christen- 
dom before  the  fifteenth  century.  Read  any  authentic 
history  of  the  Crusaders  or  Knights  Templar,  or 
of  the  periods  in  the  life  of  the  church  that  called  into 
existence  such  reformers  as  Bernard  of  Clairvaux, 
and  realize  that  inconsistent  conduct  on  the  part  of  pro- 
fessed adherents  enter  into  the  history  of  every  re- 
ligion. 

Judging  from  Christian  ideals  of  marriage,  Islamism 
is  a  failure.  Nevertheless,  we  think  it  will  be  found 
true  that  Mohammedans  until  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury, during  and  after  the  rule  of  the  Caliphs,  were  at 
least  as  chaste  as  their  Christian  contemporaries.  The 
Crusaders  who  invaded  the  East,  especially  after  the 
first  crusade,  chiefly  as  robbers  and  murderers,  under 
the  plea  of  rescuing  the  Holy  Sepulchre  from  the 
hands  of  the  Saracens,  were  by  no  means  Josephs  in 
this  particular.  And  their  pitiless  cruelty  and  vindic- 
tiveness  besides  —  they  were  under  oath,  many  of 
them,  to  show  no  quarter  to  infidels  —  make  their  con- 
duct something  rather  to  be  reprobated  than  approved. 

Some  of  the  crusading  orders, —  especially  the 
Knights  of  the  Temple,  organized  to  protect  pilgrims 
on  their  way  to  and  from  Jerusalem, —  were  so  utterly 


MOHAMMED  113 

vile  that  both  Church  and  State  united  in  putting  scores 
of  them  to  death  by  torture  and  slow  fire.  Finally, 
because  of  blasphemy  and  licentiousness,  the  order  was 
abolished  and  their  property  was  confiscated. 

If  you  do  not  care  to  read  histories,  it  is  only  neces- 
sary to  look  over  such  a  book  as  Malory's  *'  La  Morte 
d'Arthur,"  the  original  of  Tennyson's  "  Idyls  of  the 
King," — and  by  the  way,  Tennyson's  "  Idyls  "  repre- 
sent modern  and  Malory's  ''  Morte  d'Arthur  "  medi- 
eval morals  —  to  know  how  lax  the  manners  of 
those  days  were  as  compared  with  to-day,  and  in  order 
to  learn  that  the  followers  of  Mohammed  were  not  the 
only  promiscuous  violators  of  the  seventh  command- 
ment. They  never  violated  the  commandment  at  all, 
except  in  violation  of  the  teaching  of  the  Koran. 

The  Mohammedan  law  was  strict.  It  declared  such 
offenses  in  either  sex  punishable  by  a  hundred  stripes. 
In  case  of  a  woman's  being  found  incorrigible,  after 
the  third  offense  she  was  to  be  sewed  in  a  sack,  some- 
times with  a  serpent,  a  monkey,  and  a  dog,  and  cast 
into  the  sea.  This  would  show  how  they  regarded  un- 
chastity. 

Power  put  Mohammed  to  the  test.  It  brought  new 
temptations.  Nevertheless,  few  men,  if  any,  who  lived 
"  in  that  fierce  light  which  beats  upon  a  throne  and 
blackens  every  blot,"  according  to  the  opinion  of  good 
authorities,  stood  the  test  as  well  as  he. 

As  for  moderation  in  victory,  and  sympathy  for  the 
vanquished,  see  the  account  of  his  entry  into  Mecca  as 
an  invincible  conqueror  as  compared  with  the  entries 


114  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

of  Sulla  or  Marius  into  Rome,  or  the  conquests  of  any 
of  the  great  cities  by  Philip  or  Alexander,  or  the 
*'  Christian  "  victories  of  the  Middle  Ages  against  the 
Saracens,  or  how  Christians  treated  the  Jews,  with  all 
their  attendant  circumstances  and  outrages,  and  think 
of  the  use  made  by  other  conquerors  of  their  conquests. 
You  will  then  be  in  a  position  to  appreciate  the  mag- 
nanimity of  the  Prophet  of  Arabia  as  compared  with 
the  Christian  crusaders,  whose  war-cry  against  Jew 
and  Saracen  was  "  Persecute  to  the  death." 

We  have  no  reason  to  be  proud  of  many  of  our 
Christian  forebears. 

To  quote  from  H.  Bosworth  Smith's  "  Mohammed 
and  Mohammedanism  "  where  he  says  of  Mohammed, 
"  The  chief  blots  in  his  fame  are  not  after  his  undis- 
puted victory,  but  during  his  years  of  checkered  war- 
fare at  Medina.  And  such  as  they  are,  they  are  dis- 
tributed very  evenly  over  the  whole  of  that  time.  In 
other  words  he  did  very  occasionally  give  way  to 
strong  temptation,  but  there  was  no  gradual  sapping  of 
moral  principles,  and  no  deadening  of  conscience, —  a 
very  important  distinction.  One  or  two  acts  of  sum- 
mary and  uncompromising  punishment,  possibly  one  or 
two  acts  of  cunning,  and,  after  Cadijah's  death,  the 
violation  of  one  law  which  he  had  imposed  on  others 
and  had  always  hitherto  kept  himself  form  no  very 
long  bill  of  indictment  against  one  who  always  ad- 
mitted himself  a  man  of  like  passions  with  other  men, 
who  was  ignorant  of  the  Christian  moral  law,  and  who 
attained  power  after  difficulties  and  dangers  and  mis- 


MOHAMMED  115 

conceptions,  which  might  have  turned  the  best  of  men 
into  a  suspicious  and  sanguinary  tyrant." 

Sprenger,  another  capable  authority,  writes :  "  W^hat 
Christian  pope  or  king  —  to  say  nothing  of  Oriental 
rulers,  with  whom  it  is  fair  to  compare  him  —  had  as 
great  temptations  and  succumbed  to  them  as  little  as 
did  Mohammed?  " 

Judging  from  what  is  asserted  about  him  by  his  nu- 
merous biographers,  especially  within  the  past  one  hun- 
dred years,  instead  of  declaring  him  "  an  epileptic 
tyrant,"  as  a  certain  waiter  did,  we  are  rather  disposed 
to  say  of  him  what  Vasari  said  of  Raphael, —  that  ''  he 
enhanced  the  gracious  sweetness  of  a  disposition  more 
than  usually  gentle  by  the  fair  ornament  of  a  winning 
amenity." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Chapters  have  been  written  concerning  the 
Prophet's  personal  appearance,  and  until  a  century  ago, 
when  intelligent  inquiry  began,  the  slanders  of  the 
Crusaders  and  their  sympathizers  prevailed,  and  were, 
if  possible,  exaggerated  throughout  Christendom.  He 
was  represented  with  horns,  with  cloven  feet,  with  fea- 
tures expressive  of  malignancy  and  sensuality.  But 
from  eye-witnesses  and  the  more  authentic  native  tra- 
ditions we  learn  another  story. 

Not  only  the  Crusaders  and  contemporary  Christian 
historians  stooped  to  revile  a  book  they  had  not  read 
and  a  man  they  did  not  know,  as  is  the  way  at  times 
with  sectaries,  but  the  earlier  reformers  also,  still 
tainted  with  the  poison  of  intolerance,  used  slanderous 
pens  in  his  denunciation.  Luther,  who  hated  Moham- 
med almost  as  much  as  he  hated  the  pope  and  the  Jews, 
in  his  commentary  on  the  "  Book  of  Daniel  "  said  that 
the  "  little  horn "  meant  Mohammed  and  the  little 
horn's  eyes  were  the  Alkoran,  or  law,  by  which  he 
ruled.  "  Christ  will  come  upon  him,"  he  said,  ^'  with 
fire  and  brimstone."  When  he  wrote  this  puerility  he 
had  never  seen  the  Koran,  and  naturally  knew  noth- 
ing about  Islamism  except  what  came  from  bigoted 
predecessors. 

A  certain  Brother  Richards'  Confiitateo  Alkoran, 

.116 


MOHAMMED  117 

dated  130)0  A.  D.,  formed  the  almost  exclusive  basis  of 
his  argument.  This  Brother  Richards,  according  to 
his  own  account,  "  had  gone  in  quest  of  knowledge  to 
Babylon,  the  beautiful  city  of  the  Sarissins,  had  learned 
Arabic  and  had  been  inured  in  the  evil  ways  of  the 
Sarissins."  When  he  returned  he  wrote  a  book,  and 
this  is  the  way  it  begins : 

''  At  the  time  of  the  Emperor  Heraclies  there  was  a 
man,  yea  a  divil,  and  the  first-born  child  of  satan 
.  .  .  who  wallowed  in  .  .  .  and  dealt  in  the 
black  art,  and  his  name  it  was  Machumet." 

This  w^as  the  book  translated  by  Luther  from  Latin 
into  German,  and  his  notes  on  some  of  Brother  Rich- 
ards' ingenious  inventions  are  at  least  amusing,  if  not 
edifying,  for  example:  "Oh,  fie,  for  shame,  you  hor- 
rid devil,  you  damned  Mohammedan!  "  Again,  ''  Oh, 
Satan,  Satan,  you  shall  pay  for  that!"  Luther  was 
evidently  as  familiar  with  Satan  as  Mohammed  was 
with  the  archangel  Gabriel.  Or  again,  coming  across 
a  passage  ascribed  to  Mohammed  by  Brother  Richards 
that  was  unusually  contrary  to  Christian  teaching, 
"  That's  it.  Devils,  Sarissins,  Turks, —  it's  all  the 
same."  Or,  "  Here  the  devil  smells  a  rat."  All  of 
these  and  numerous  other  exclamations  but  show  the 
childish  credulity  of  Luther,  his  abhorrence  of  iniquity. 
And  what  a  book  it  was  that  claimed  for  its  author  the 
pious  Brother  Richards! 

This  translation  by  Luther  of  the  monk's  imagina- 
tive history  was  the  beginning  of  Protestant  denuncia- 
tion of  Mohammed.     Even  the  gentle  Melanchthon, 


ii8  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

also  getting  his  "  facts  "  from  Brother  Richards'  men- 
dacious book,  said :  "  Mohammed  is  inspired  by  the 
devil.  .  .  .  The  Mohammedan  sect  is  altogether 
made  up  of  blasphemy,  robbery,  and  shameful  lust." 

On  the  papal  side,  Genebrara  charges  the  German  re- 
formers, chiefly  Luther  himself,  with  attempting  to  in- 
troduce Mohammedanism  into  the  Christian  world  and 
to  take  over  the  whole  clergy  into  that  faith.  And  a 
certain  Maracci  is  of  the  opinion  that  Mohammedan- 
ism and  Lutherism  are  not  very  dissimilar,  "  Wit- 
ness," he  says,  "  the  iconoclastic  tendencies  of  both !  " 
More  systematically,  Martinus  Alphonsus  Vivaldus 
marshals  up  exactly  thirteen  points  to  prove  that  there 
is  not  a  shadow  of  difference  between  them.  ''  Mo- 
hammed," he  writes,  "  points  to  that  which  is  written 
down.  So  do  these  heretics.  He  has  altered  the 
time  of  the  fasts;  they  abhor  all  fasts.  He  has 
changed  Sunday  into  Friday;  they  observe  no  rest  day 
at  all.  He  rejects  the  worship  of  the  saints.  So  do 
these  Lutherans.  Mohammed  has  no  baptism;  nor 
does  Calvin  consider  such  requisite.  They  both  allow 
divorce."  Whereupon  Roland,  on  the  side  of  the  Re- 
formers, wants  to  know  about  "  the  prayers  for  the 
dead,  which  both  Mohammed  and  the  pope  enjoin;  the 
intercession  of  angels ;  likewise  the  visiting  of  graves ; 
the  pilgrimages  to  holy  places;  the  fixed  fasts;  the 
merits  of  works, —  all  of  equal  consequence  both  to 
Catholic  and  Mosleman." 

How  the  foolish  curses  and  malignant  protests 
against  Mohammedans  of  such  partisans  as  Prideaux, 


MOHAMMED  119 

Spanheims,  and  Herbelots, —  such  as  "  wicked  im- 
postor," "  dastardly  liars,"  "  devils  incarnate,"  "  behe- 
moths," "  beasts,"  ''  Korahs,"  and  other  epithets  equally 
emphatic, —  give  room,  step  by  step,  to  the  more  tem- 
perate protest,  more  civil  names,  less  outrageous  mis- 
representations of  both  the  faith  and  the  man,  until 
Goethe  and  Carlyle  and  that  modern  phalanx  of  truth- 
seekers, —  Sprenger,  Amari,  Noldeke,  Muir,  Burck- 
hardt,  Weil,  and  many  others, —  have  taught  the  world 
at  large  that  Mohammedanism  to  the  contrary  is  ''  a 
thing  of  vitality,  fraught  with  a  thousand  fruitful 
germs;  and  that  Mohammed,  whether  his  revelations 
were  due  to  epilepsy,  catalepsy,  or  whatever  view  of  his 
character  be  held,  has  earned  a  place  in  the  golden  book 
of  humanity." 

Until  a  hundred  years  ago,  or  less,  his  enemies  and 
those  who  knew  him  not  have  accused  him  of  every 
known  vice.  They  represented  him,  too,  as  being  hide- 
ously ugly.  Those  who  knew  him  personally  and 
familiarly  and  whose  opinions  are  founded  upon  im- 
partial study,  tell  another  story.  Their  descriptions 
are  so  vivid  and  they  enter  into  so  many  details  in  the 
delineation  of  his  personal  appearance  and  of  his  con- 
duct in  private  and  public  that  you  would  almost  know 
him  if  you  met  him  in  the  desert  among  a  thousand 
turbaned  heads,  or  at  an  afternoon  tea  in  a  Tuxedo  or 
Prince  Albert. 

He  was  of  middle  height,  rather  slender,  but  broad 
of  shoulder,  wide  of  chest,  strong  of  bone  and  muscle. 
His  head  was  massive,  strongly  developed,  hair  dark 


I20  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

and  curling,  and  even  in  advanced  age  it  was  only 
"  sprinkled  by  about  twenty  gray  hairs,"  which  were 
produced,  according  to  his  devoted  disciples,  *'  by  the 
agonies  of  the  revelations."  The  minuteness  of  vari- 
ous descriptions  show  the  affection  with  which  he  was 
regarded.  If  possible,  they  would  have  numbered  all 
the  hairs  of  his  head,  instead  of  the  twenty  white  ones. 

His  face  was  oval  in  shape,  what  Lavater  called 
"  the  poetic  face,"  slightly  tawny  in  color.  His  fine, 
long,  arched  eyebrows  were  divided  by  a  vein,  which 
Carlyle  attached  much  importance  to,  and  which 
throbbed  visibly  in  moments  of  passion.  Great  black 
restless  eyes  shone  out  from  under  heavy  eyelashes; 
his  nose  was  large,  slightly  aquiline,  and  it  is  pleasant 
to  know  that  he  gave  great  care  to  his  teeth,  which 
were  well  set  and  of  dazzling  whiteness.  A  full  beard 
framed  his  face.  "  His  hands  were  as  silk  and  satin, 
like  those  of  a  woman," — that  is,  the  Oriental 
woman's  hands,  not  those  of  one  of  Albrecht  Diirer's 
women, — "  His  step  was  quick  and  elastic,  yet  firm  as 
one  that  steps  from  a  high  to  a  low  place." 

Another  writer  said  that  his  gait  in  walking  was  as 
if  he  were  descending  a  mountain.  His  hands  and 
feet  were  large,  but  "  so  light  was  his  step,"  relates 
another  admirer,  ''  that  he  left  no  track  on  the  sand  he 
trod  upon." 

"  In  turning  his  face  he  would  also  turn  his  whole 
body,"  says  another  adoring  eye-witness.  *'  His  entire 
gait  and  presence  were  dignified  and  imposing,"  writes 
another.     "  His  countenance  was  mild  and  pensive  and 


MOHAMMED  121 

his  laugh  was  rarely  more  than  a  smile,"  is  the  way 
another  venerating  disciple  begins  a  description  of  his 
master. 

"  Oh,  my  little  son,"  reads  a  description  in  the  mu- 
sical tongue  of  Arabia,  "  hadst  thou  seen  him  thou 
wouldst  have  said  thou  hadst  seen  the  sun  rising." 
Another  witness  asserts,  *'  I  saw  him  in  a  moonlight 
night.  Sometimes  I  looked  at  his  beauty,  sometimes 
I  looked  at  the  moon;  his  dress  was  striped  with  red, 
and  he  was  brighter  and  more  beautiful  to  me  than 
the  moon."  To  get  the  whole  significance  of  the 
above,  the  reader,  if  he  has  never  passed  a  night  in 
Arabia,  must  imagine  the  sublime  majesty  of  the  m.oon 
as  it  appears  to  the  people  of  the  desert. 

Caesar  was  bald  and  regretted  it;  Byron,  curly- 
headed,  and  proud  of  it,  and  Mohammed  rejoiced  in 
*'  glossy  locks  falling  in  graceful  curves  below  the  lobes 
of  his  ears."  These  touches  in  the  delineation  of  a 
charming  character  are  the  brush-marks  in  portraits 
lovmgly  painted  by  admirers.  Impostors  are  never 
loved,  never  admired,  by  persons  who  know  them  inti- 
mately. 

The  historian  Gibbon,  who  wrote  a  life  of  Moham- 
med, and  who  was  one  of  the  earliest  unprejudiced 
investigators,  calls  him  "  the  greatest  and  the  last  of 
the  Apostles  of  God."  And  Spanheim,  a  famous 
Arabic  scholar  applauded  by  Mr.  Sale,  the  translator 
of  the  Koran,  though  regarding  Mohammed  a  pre- 
tender, yet  acknowledges  him  "  to  have  been  richly  fur- 
nished with  natural  endowments,  beautiful  in  his  per- 


122  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

son,  of  a  subtle  wit,  of  agreeable  behavior,  showing 
liberality  to  the  poor,  courtesy  to  everyone,  fortitude 
against  his  enemies,  and  above  all  a  high  reverence  for 
the  name  of  God ;  to  have  been  severe  against  the  per- 
jured, and  against  adulterers,  murderers,  slanderers, 
prodigals,  the  covetous,  false  witnesses,  and  so  on;  to 
have  been  a  great  preacher  of  patience,  charity,  mercy, 
beneficence,  gratitude,  honoring  of  parents  and  su- 
periors, and  a  frequent  celebrator  of  the  divine 
praise." 

This .  testimony  of  one  not  in  accord  with  the  sin- 
cerity of  Mohammed's  claims  shows  at  least  that  epi- 
lepsy is  possible  with  the  possession  and  practice  of  the 
highest  faculties  of  the  mind, —  a  fact  which  ought  to 
give  encouragement  to  all  similarly  afflicted,  for  Mo- 
hammed's attacks  were  frequent  and  presented  every 
serious  phase  of  the  malady  and  continued  from  in- 
fancy to  death. 

In  his  habits  he  bestowed  great  attention  upon  his 
person.  He  was  extremely  simple  in  attire  and  was 
especially  careful  of  "  his  teeth,  which,  although  two 
of  them  were  slightly  apart  in  front,  were  otherwise 
beautifully  even  and  white  until  after  one  of  his  bat- 
tles, when  a  blow  which  nearly  killed  him  knocked  one 
of  them  out."  His  hands  and  hair  and  the  fashion  of 
his  simple  but  graceful  garments  were  matters  of  con- 
cern to  him ;  and  if  he  was  licentious,  as  we  believe  he 
was  not,  he  did  not  seem  to  be  concerned  or  made  ir- 
religious by  it,  as  the  licentious  are  among  us. 

His  eating  and  drinking,  his  dress  and  the  furniture 


MOHAMMED  123 

of  his  home,  were  ahnost  primitive,  even  when  he  had 
reached  the  fullness  of  power  and  had,  figuratively, 
the  world  at  his  feet.  "  His  household,"  says  Carlyle, 
''  was  the  frugalest,  his  common  diet  barley  bread  and 
water,  and  sometimes  for  months  there  was  not  a  fire 
once  lighted  on  his  hearth."  He  made  a  point  from 
the  beginning  of  giving  away  his  "  superfluities.''  The 
only  luxuries  he  indulged  in  besides  arms  were  certain 
yellow  boots,  a  present  from  the  Negus  of  Abyssinia. 
He  highly  prized  arms  and  greatly  admired  their  beau- 
tiful workmanship,  and  who,  knowing  Moorish  arms 
and  their  jeweled  beauty,  does  not  admire  them? 

Perfumes,  however,  he  liked  as  a  cat  likes  catnip. 
He  reveled  in  pleasant  odors  as  the  Japanese  do  in 
cherry  blossoms,  and  he  was  as  nervously  afraid  of 
bodily  pain  as  Dr.  Johnson  was  of  death,  and  would 
cry  under  it  like  a  child.  Eminently  impractical  in  all 
common  things  of  life,  as  poets  and  the  extremely  de- 
vout often  are,  he  was  gifted,  we  have  seen,  with  fine 
powers  of  imagination,  elevation  of  mind,  delicacy  and 
refinement  of  feeling,  and  was  "  more  modest,"  it  was 
said,  "  than  a  virgin  behind  her  curtain." 

He  was  most  indulgent  to  his  inferiors,  never  allow- 
ing his  awkward  little  page  to  be  scolded,  no  matter 
what  he  did.  ''  Ten  years,"  said  Anas,  his  servant, 
"  was  I  about  the  Prophet  without  receiving  a  rebuke 
or  an  impatient  word." 

Think  of  the  opulence  and  of  the  retinues  of 
servants  of  contemporary  and  subsequent  princes. 
Christian  princes  and  popes  and  even  bishops  of  the 


124  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

church  founded  by  the  Fisherman,  as  compared  with 
the  simplicity  of  this  "  autocrat  of  the  East."  Besides 
multitudes  of  retainers,  many  of  the  "  Christian " 
rulers  in  those  "  dear  old  days  of  faith  "  had  their  own 
private  and  particular  company  of  honorable  assassins 
and  poisoners.  And  their  positions,  too,  were  not 
sinecures.  Mohammed's  fondness  for  children  and 
loyalty  to  his  own  family  were  marked  characteristics. 
He  was  untiringly  affectionate  to  his  own  people  and 
children.  He  was  interested  in  everything  relating  to 
them.  One  of  his  boys  died  on  his  breast  in  the 
smoky  house  of  his  attendant,  a  blacksmith's  wife. 
He  was  fond  of  other  people's  children  also.  He 
would  stop  them  on  the  street,  pat  them  on  the  cheek, 
and  before  preaching  would  often  take  one  of  his  chil- 
dren into  the  pulpit  and  hold  it  up  in  his  arms  that  the 
whole  congregation  might  see  it  and  rejoice  with  him. 
It  has  been  said  also  of  him  that  he  never  struck  any- 
one in  his  life,  and  never  attempted  to  lord  it  over  a 
human  being,  high  or  low,  and  constantly  disclaimed 
particular  distinction,  except  in  his  capacity  as  Prophet. 
Contrast  the  clemency  of  this  "  sensual  tyrant  "  with 
the  inhumanity,  say,  of  Frederick  the  Great,  of  Prus- 
sia, or  of  Peter  the  Great,  of  Russia,  or  of  his  irascible 
father;  or  with  the  religious  intolerance  of  a  saintly 
inquisitor  planning  new  methods  of  loving  correction 
for  heresy ;  or  with  that  other  exemplary  Western  ruler 
of  whom  it  was  said  "  that  he  never  saw  human  shins 
without  being  overcome  with  the  impulse  to  kick 
them." 


MOHAMMED  125 

The  worst  expression  Mohammed  made  use  of  in 
his  conversations,  even  under  the  greatest  provocation, 
was,  "What  has  come  to  him?"  When  asked  to 
curse  someone,  he  repHed,  "  I  have  not  been  sent  to 
curse,  but  to  be  a  mercy  to  mankind." 

His  wives,  who  resided  each  in  her  own  home 
around  the  plain  abode  of  the  Prophet,  and  who  Hved 
in  the  greatest  harmony  with  one  another,  unitedly 
testify  to  the  gentleness  of  his  character,  the  unaffected 
nature  of  his  continuous  kindness  and  consideration. 
And  since  all  his  wives  but  one  had  been  widows  they 
were  in  a  condition  when  he  married  them  to  compare 
him  with  other  men. 

His  language  was  continuously  inoffensive  and 
chaste ;  his  thoughts  and  visions  were  exalted  and  pure. 
In  all  the  volumes  of  the  Koran  and  Sunna  and  in  all 
that  has  been  said  of  him  by  his  contemporaries  and 
intimates  there  is  not  reported  an  unbecoming  allusion 
nor  an  indelicate  word. 

His  habits  were  the  simplest  and  most  humane.  He 
visited  the  sick,  followed  any  bier  he  met  to  the  cem- 
etery, accepted  the  invitation  of  a  slave  to  dinner, 
milked  his  own  ewes,  and  waited  on  himself.  Another 
tradition  —  and  these  little  touches,  love-pats  of  af- 
fection, reveal  the  man  and  the  regard  his  intimates 
had  for  him  —  says  that  "  he  never  first  withdrew  his 
hand  out  of  another  man's  hand,  and  turned  not  before 
the  other  had  turned."  "  His  hand,"  we  read  else- 
where,—  and  accounts  like  these  give  a  good  index  of 
what  the  Arabs  expected  their  Prophet  to  be,  and  of 


126  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

how  lovingly  they  regarded  his  every  movement — 
"  was  the  most  generous,  his  breast  the  most  courage- 
ous, his  tongue  the  most  truthful.  He  was  the  faith- 
ful protector  of  those  he  precepted.  He  was  the 
sweetest  and  most  agreeable  person  in  conversation. 
Those  who  saw  him  were  suddenly  filled  with  rever- 
ence, and  those  who  came  near  him  loved  him.  They 
who  described  him  would  say,  *  I  have  never  seen  his 
like  either  before  or  after.'  " 

He  was  of  great  taciturnity.  But  when  he  spoke  it 
was  with  emphasis  and  deliberation,  and  one  could 
never  forget  what  he  said.  He  was,  however,  rest- 
less, often  low-spirited  and  downcast  as  to  heart  and 
eyes.  Yet  he  could  at  times  break  through  those 
broodings,  become  gay  and  jocular,  chiefly  among  his 
own.  He  would  then  delight,  like  Luther,  in  telling 
entertaining  stories,  fairy  tales  and  the  like,  would 
romp  with  his  children,  play  with  their  toys,  as  after 
his  first  wife's  death,  marking  the  beginning  of  the 
break-down,  he  was  wont  to  play  with  the  dolls  his  new 
wives  had  brought  into  his  home. 

Although  he  was  like  the  Hebrew  in  so  many  tenets 
of  his  faith,  yet  how  different  he  was  in  the  desire  to 
extend  the  benefit  of  his  religion  to  others.  The  mes- 
sage of  the  Hebrew  prophet  was  usually  confined  to 
his  own  people ;  the  Arabian  intended  his  faith  for  the 
world,  to  be  conveyed  in  whatever  way  was  thought 
best.  The  Jew  might  seem  to  be  forfeiting  his  privi- 
leges as  one  of  the  chosen  people  by  communicating  the 
faith  to  the  Gentile;  the  Arab  came  short  of  his  duty 


:\10I1AM.\1EU. 
This   is   merely    one   of   the   many   ideal   conceptions   of    Mohammed. 


Facing  p.  126. 


MOHAMMED  127 

if  he  did  not  do  so.  And  it  is  this  enjoined  duty  of 
the  Koran  that  has  made  the  Mussulman  the  most  ef- 
fective missionary  in  all  the  world. 

There  are  over  fifty  million  Mohammedans  among 
the  native  people  of  India  to-day, — "  every  fourth  or 
fifth  man  you  meet  is  a  Muslim," —  yet  India  is  as 
much  of  a  foreign  country  to  the  Arabian  as  it  is  to 
us.  The  same  might  be  said  of  Africa.  Ever  since 
the  conqueror  Akbar  in  the  early  days  of  Islam  carried 
his  conquests  from  the  Nile  to  the  Pillars  of  Hercules, 
driving  his  horse  into  the  waves  of  the  Atlantic  and 
lamenting  that  he  could  go  no  farther  in  that  direction, 
Islam  has  held  on  to  the  whole  of  the  Barbary  states, — 
that  is  to  say,  for  a  period  of  twelve  hundred  years. 

Their  possessions  there  include  all  that  portion  of 
the  world  which  in  ancient  times  served  as  the  only 
connection  between  Africa  and  the  outer  world,  in- 
cluding the  regions  of  Egypt  and  Phoenicia,  and  of 
Roman  and  vandal  civilizations.  The  headquarters  of 
African  and  the  birthplace  of  Latin  Christianity  this, 
as  the  names  of  Tertullian,  Cyprian,  Arnobius,  and 
Augustine  may  well  remind  us.  And  what  has  Mo- 
hammedanism taught  these  people  in  all  that  period? 
Invariably  that  "  God,  there  is  no  God  but  Him,  the 
Living,  the  Eternal.  Slumber  doth  not  overtake  Him, 
neither  sleep.  To  Him  belongeth  all  that  is  in  heaven 
and  earth.  .  .  .  His  throne  extendeth  over  heaven 
and  earth,  and  the  upholding  of  both  is  no  burden  to 
Him.  He  is  the  Lofty  and  the  Great."  And  that  to 
be  an  Islamite  is  to  be  submissive  to  Him. 


128  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

That  is  what  Mohammedanism  teaches  about  God 
and  submission.  About  duty  and  conduct  they  teach 
as  follows :  ''  Oh,  true  believer,  surely  wine  and  lots 
[gambling],  and  images,  and  divining  rods  are  an 
abomination,  and  the  work  of  Satan.  Then  forever 
avoid  them  that  you  may  prosper.  Satan  seeketh  to 
sow  dissension  and  hatred  among  you  by  means  of 
wine  and  lots,  and  to  divert  you  from  remembering 
God  and  prayer.  Will  you  not  therefore  abstain  from 
them?" 

Although  they  were  slave-owners  and  slave-dealers, 
yet  the  spread  of  Mohammedanism  means  the  abolition 
of  slavery.  No  believer  can  be  held  by  a  Mohamme- 
dan as  a  slave,  and  of  slaves  who  were  not  Moham- 
medans the  Prophet  said :  "  See  that  ye  feed  them 
with  such  food  as  ye  eat  yourselves.  And  clothe  them 
with  the  dress  ye  wear  yourselves,  for  they  are  the 
servants  of  the  Lord,  and  not  to  be  toiTnented." 
"  How  many  times  a  day,"  asks  a  follower  of  Moham- 
med, "  ought  I  to  forgive  a  slave  who  displeases  me?  " 
*'  Seventy  times  a  day,"  replied  the  Prophet. 


CHAPTER  XV 

Thus  Mohammed,  although  the  most  viHfied  of  men 
until  late  years,  would  seem  to  have  been  one  of  the 
world's  greatest  benefactors,  laboring,  in  spite  of  his 
affliction,  according  to  his  light,  to  bring  men  to  God 
and  to  establish  righteousness. 

He  was,  perhaps,  incapable  of  creating  a  moral  and 
political  system  of  endless  value  to  his  countrymen,  as 
someone  has  asserted ;  but,  as  Gibbon  says,  ''  he 
breathed  among  his  countless  faithful  a  spirit  of  char- 
ity and  friendship,  recommended  the  practice  of  the 
social  virtues,  and  checked  by  his  laws  and  precepts  the 
thirst  for  revenge  and  the  oppression  of  widows  and 
orphans." 

It  is  not  only  the  propagation  but  the  unchanged 
permanency  and  uniformity  of  Islamism  that  when 
known  elicits  wonder. 

Christianity  as  exhibited  to-day,  especially  in  its 
Eastern  forms,  and  lack  of  form,  might  not  be  recog- 
nized by  the  earlier  followers  of  that  Jesus  who  came 
to  establish  not  so  mych  a  church  as  a  life,  not  so  much 
a  creed  as  a  system  of  ethics,  founded  upon  the  father- 
hood of  God  and  the  brotherhood  of  man.  If  they 
but  saw  the  austere  simplicity  of  some  places  of  wor- 
ship, the  meretricious  gorgeousness  of  others,  the  glit- 
tering habiliments  of  some  of  her  ministers,  the  uncouth 

129 


130  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

disregard  of  appearance  and  lack  of  form  of  others,  the 
intense  attention  to  the  narrow  interests  of  "  mint  and 
cummin  "  in  some  communions,  the  liberaHty,  amount- 
ing to  license,  of  others,  yet  all  united  in  essentials^  and 
resulting,  it  has  been  said,  in  glory  to  God  and  benefit 
to  man, —  we  reiterate,  if  believers  from  the  first  cen- 
tury of  Christianity,  with  its  primitive  religious  prac- 
tices and  absence  of  the  spectacular,  could  but  see  the 
church  in  its  various  varieties  of  worship  to-day,  they 
would  certainly  be  surprised.  But  Islam,  in  unalter- 
ableness  of  creed  and  simplicity  of  service,  is  ever  the 
same,  and  the  "  I  believe  in  God  and  Mohammed  the 
Apostle  of  God  "  is  the  uniform  and  definite  conviction 
of  all  believers.  There  is  everywhere  and  in  all 
tongues  the  same  Quaker-like  plainness  of  worship,  and 
from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Ganges  the  Koran  is  acknowl- 
edged as  the  fundamental  Code,  not  only  of  theology, 
but  of  jurisprudence  as  well :  not  only  the  property  but 
the  conduct  of  the  believer  is  controlled  and  protected 
by  the  will  of  God  as  expressed  in  the  Koran. 

If  he,  Mohammed,  assumed  a  false  commission,  it 
was  in  order  to  inculcate  salutary  doctrines.  He  gen- 
erously and  piously  claimed  as  the  foundation  of  his 
religion  the  truth  and  the  sanities  of  prior  Jewish  and 
Christian  revelations,  as  he  understood  them,  as  well 
as  the  virtues  and  moral  conceptions  of  their  founders. 
Consistent,  it  would  seem,  with  their  opposition  to 
idolatry  and  in  deference  to  his  own  exalted  concep- 
tion of  the  nature  of  God,  the  idols  of  Arabia  were 
broken,  including  the  three  hundred  and  sixty  of  super- 


MOHAMMED  131 

imposed  importance  of  the  Caaba.  And  his  rewards 
and  punishments  of  a  future  state,  also  in  deference, 
we  imagine,  to  Christian  precedent,  were  presented  in 
images  which,  though  puerile  to  us,  were  best  calcu- 
lated to  influence  sensuous  generations. 

It  was  not  until  after  the  death  of  his  first  wife,  with 
whom  he  lived  until  his  forty-fifth  year  a  life  of  ex- 
emplary fidelity,  that  he  became  on  occasion  cruel  and 
sensual.  Yet  he  was  not  nearly  so  much  so  as  were 
Moses  and  many  other  Jewish  rulers,  or  many  nomin- 
ally Christian  kings ;  and  it  is  a  fact,  too,  that  but  few 
men  attained  such  power  among  a  people  so  savage 
and  licentious. 

The  ''  barbarities  "of  Mohammed  are  but  the  gam- 
bols of  a  lamb  or  the  playfulness  of  a  kitten  as  com- 
pared with  the  deliberate  cruelties  of  Old  Testament 
rulers,  or  with  the  iniquitous  doings  of  that  "  most 
Christian  king,"  Philip  II.,  of  Spain,  for  example,  who 
was  coerced  by  a  fanatical  resolve  "  for  the  love  of 
God  "  to  destroy  all  who  merely  did  not  believe  as  he 
wished  them  to  believe.  Alva  in  a  letter  tells  Philip 
that  after  Holy  Week  he  is  going  to  cut  off  the  heads 
of  eight  hundred  people  for  differences  of  opinion 
about  the  Christian  religion.  The  holy  office  on  Feb- 
ruary 16,  1658,  condemned  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Netherlands  to  death  as  heretics.  Philip  ten  da3^s 
after  the  decree  of  the  Inquisition  ordered  it  to 
be  "  carried  into  instant  execution  without  regard  to 
age,  sex,  or  condition."  Motley,  commenting,  says: 
"  This  is  the  most  concise  death  warrant  ever  framed. 


132  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

—  three  millions  of  people,  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, sentenced  to  death  in  three  lines/' 

Moslemism,  like  Christianity,  as  intended  by  its 
founder,  and  unlike  this,  is  tolerant  of  all  religions.  It 
is  not  at  variance  with  good  moral  standards,  nor  is  it 
in  contravention  of  just  laws. 

"  Religion,"  says  the  Koran,  "  is  not  turning  your 
face  to  the  east  or  to  the  west;  but  the  religious  are 
those  who  believe  in  God  and  the  last  day,  and  give 
their  wealth  to  the  poor  and  the  wayfaring  man,  and 
to  those  who  ask  charity,  and  for  the  redemption  of 
captives,  and  those  who  perform  their  prayers  and  give 
alms,  and  who  keep  their  engagements  when  they  have 
made  them,  and  are  patient  under  misfortune  and 
affliction,  and  in  the  time  of  adversity.  These  are  they 
who  are  in  possession  of  the  truth;  these,  they  are  the 
pious." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Someone,  in  a  pessimistic  mood,  perhaps  Nietzsche, 
said :  "  We  are  compounded  of  sincerity  and  insincer- 
ity in  everything.  The  laughter  of  the  brightest,  the 
prayers  of  the  most  devout,  are  tainted  with  insin- 
cerity, not  because  we  have  not  the  will  to  be  otherwise 
but  because  w^e  have  not  the  strength." 

This,  if  true,  ought  at  least  to  make  us  humble.  Yet 
judging  by  our  own  reading,  this  theory  would  apply 
less  to  Mohammed  than  to  any  other  of  the  human 
family  known  to  us.  Nevertheless,  sincerity  is  not  the 
greatest  faculty  of  the  mind.  It  is  indeed  a  much  over- 
rated quality;  and  much  good  work  may  be  done  with- 
out it,  and  much  bad  work  may  be  done  with  it. 
Every  creed,  no  matter  how  irrational,  has  its  fanatics 
and  martyrs.  They  may  be  found  on  the  side  of  every 
error  and  fanaticism  and  bigotry ;  and  they  are  always 
sincere.  Sincerity  has  been  urged  as  an  excuse  for  the 
most  barbarous  crimes.  It  is  often  nothing  but  prepos- 
terous egotism  —  man  i>resumptuously  putting  himself 
in  the  place  of  Deity,  and,  as  he  ignorantly  thinks, 
audaciously  perfonning  the  function  of  Deity. 

It  is  the  power  behind  sincerity  that  gives  it  sanctity. 

The  Mohammedanism  of  Mohammed  in  the  begin- 
ning was  so  tolerant,  sympathetic,  and  full  of  compas- 
sion for  men  and  for  the  lower  animals  that  it  puts 

133 


134  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

even  St.  Francis  to  shame.  He  came  five  hundred 
years  after  Mohammed,  eleven  after  Christ,  and  ought 
to  have  known  better;  indeed,  if  his  regard  for  the 
lower  animals  had  been  anything  but  an  affectation  and 
pose  he  would  not  have  been  the  hero  of  "  The  Story 
of  Brother  Juniper/'  which  see  in  "  The  Little  Flowers 
of  St.  Francis.'* 

We  may  admit  Mohammed  to  have  been  sincere, 
then,  in  his  claim  of  being  a  Prophet  of  God  and  the 
receiver  of  divine  honor,  without  claiming  that  sin- 
cerity justifies  all  things.  He  was  as  sincere  as  was 
Albrecht  Diirer  or  Lucas  Cranach  in  painting  portraits, 
without  our  claiming  that  the  portraits  looked  like  the 
originals.  Indeed,  we  trust  they  did  not.  He  was  as 
sincere  as  Turner  in  painting  atmosphere;  or  John 
Knox  in  denouncing  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots;  as  John 
.Wesley  or  Adam  Clark  in  itinerating  for  Christ;  as 
Bernard  of  Clairvaux  or  Gregory  in  denouncing  the 
wickedness  of  their  times  and  the  depravity  of  the  re- 
ligious orders  and  the  clergy. 

He  was  as  devout  as  any  Christian,  as  loyal  to  his 
convictions  as  any  saint.  Yet  much  of  what  he  taught 
was  due  to  the  poet  and  seer  in  him  rather  than  to  the 
reformer.  His  malady, —  hallucinations  both  of  sight 
and  hearing  and  automatisms,  peculiar  psychic  con- 
ditions, and  the  rest, —  but  gives  color  to  his  impres- 
sions and  oracularness  to  his  picturesque  speech.  He 
was  not  always  the  same.  He  had  his  periods  of  hope 
and  despair,  like  most  men  of  serious  character.  On 
more  than  one  occasion  his  despair  nearly  ended  in 


MOHAMMED  135 

self -slaughter.  The  landscape  of  every  man's  life  suf- 
fers many  changes :  sometimes,  with  all  its  placidity, 
there  may  be  a  smoldering  volcano  in  the  distance, 
ready  at  a  moment's  notice  to  belch  out  lava  and  flame ; 
sometimes,  a  roaring  cataract,  tumbling  into  a  bottom- 
less abyss ;  again  an  unrippled  lake,  reflecting  earth  and 
heaven  and  all  the  endearments  of  life;  or  some  scene 
of  bacchanalian  or  social  revelry,  implying  or  ending 
in  ruin ;  or  it  may  be  a  river  bearing  on  its  broad  bosom 
treasure-laden  argosies  from  many  lands.  Sometimes 
it  exhibits  the  splendor  of  a  Turner  or  Claude ;  or  the 
light  and  shadow  of  a  nymph-haunted  pastoral  by 
Poussin  or  Corot;  or  a  riot  of  extravagancies,  like  the 
tortuous  caverns,  rent  and  beetling  mountains,  over- 
hanging rocks,  and  tempest-twisted  trees  of  Salvator 
Rosa,  fitting  haunts  of  robbers  and  assassins.  Some- 
times also  the  background  may  be  encircled  with  bat- 
tlemented  clouds,  enclosing  armies  of  contending 
forces ;  or  perhaps  it  may  be  but  a  sorrow-haunted 
cemetery  or  peaceful  procession  of  worshipers  return- 
ing from  prayer.  Or  it  may  suffer  a  sea  change,  be- 
coming an  endless  ocean,  one  with  the  sky,  upon  the 
undulating  bosom  of  which  he  is  lulled,  "  like  a  child 
rocked  by  the  beating  of  its  mother's  heart  "  until  lost 
in  smile-producing  dreams.  Thus  Mohammed,  too, 
ran  his  gamut  of  transmutations  from  profound  sad- 
ness to  exuberant  joy. 

No  one  can  get  away  from  his  nature  any  more  than 
from  his  shadow, —  the  fundamental  bias  of  his  mind, 
which  is  as  ineffaceable  as  a  pricking  of  India  ink  or  a 


136  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

scar.  Mohammed  had  his  dreams  and  visions,  in- 
eradicable idiosyncrasies,  liability  to  discrepancies  of 
conduct,  and  failure  to  realize  ideals.  He  did  not 
claim  to  be  different  from  other  men  except  in  being 
"  selected  by  the  Almighty  to  be  His  preacher."  Other 
inspired  or  deluded  persons,  just  as  you  take  them,  be- 
fore and  since  Mohammed  have  also  believed  them- 
selves called  especially  of  God  to  do  specific  work, 
without  being  considered  apostles  of  deceit.  ''  Blessed 
is  the  man,"  says  Carlyle,  "  who  has  found  his  work, 
and  who  finding  it  can  carry  it  to  completion." 

This,  then,  was  the  man  that  had  tamed  the  hydra  of 
anarchy  and  quelled  the  fervor  of  belligerent  tribes, 
not  with  roar  of  cannon  nor  gleam  of  scimitar  as  much 
as  by  prayer,  by  the  preaching  of  righteousness,  by  the 
proclamation  of  the  unity  and  holiness  of  God,  by 
promises  of  rewards  to  the  faithful  and  fulminations 
of  protracted  wrath  to  evil-doers,  by  the  convincing 
eloquence  and  mysticism  of  a  book,  by  the  obliteration 
of  distinctions  of  birth,  by  the  enactment  of  just  laws. 
And  so  powerful  and  beneficial  was  the  impression  he 
made  upon  his  people  that  after  death  the  remembrance 
of  him  was  so  vital  and  sacred  that  it  gave  special 
sanctity  and  sacredness  to  everything  he  had  either  said 
or  touched. 

It  was  not  until  the  setting  in,  we  would  venture  the 
diagnosis,  of  premature  mental  decay  that  the  Prophet, 
as  before  asserted,  veered  from  the  monogamous  ideal. 
Yet,  withal  he  boldly  proclaimed  himself  the  Paraclete 
—  see  Acts  of  the  Apostles  —  that  was  to  come  to  com- 


MOHAAIMED  137 

plete  the  unfinished  work  of  Moses  and  the  prophets, 
including  Jesus, —  "  that  is  to  say,  to  bring  the  whole 
world  back  to  God,  as  they  had  brought  only  a  part 
of  it,  and  to  manifest  such  a  recognition  of  God  as  is 
exhibited  in  honest  living  and  in  a  God-revering  life." 
The  unspeakable  Turk,  who  as  barbarian  conquered 
Arabia  and  then  crudely  adopted  the  religion  of  the 
vanquished,  has  not  become  barbarous,  if  he  is  always 
so,   by   following  but  rather  by  disregarding  in   im- 
portant aspects  the  teachings  of  the  Arabian,  as  the 
depraved  and  superstitious  with  us  are  barbarous  by 
abandoning  rather  than  by  following  "  the  Light  which 
was  the  life  of  the  world."     And  the  religion  of  Mo- 
hammed is  no  more  responsible  for  the  cruelties  and 
moral   delinquenlcies    of    its    semi-barbarous   believers 
than  Christianity  is  for  the  lecheries  of  Lucretia  or 
Caesar  Borgia  or  Pope  Alexander  VI. ;  or  for  the  de- 
pravity of  Catherine  11. ,  of  Russia,  or  of  Henry  VIII. , 
or  Charles  11. ,  of  England ;  or  for  the  malignancies  of 
the  Knights  of  Malta  and  the  Crusaders;  or  for  the 
perversions  of  the  Knights  of  the  Temple;  or  for  the 
"pomocracy"   of   the   church   in  the   Middle  Ages; 
or  for  the  bloody  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew;  or 
for  the  Sicilian  vespers;   or   for  the  horrors  of  the 
Inquisition;  or  for  the  terrors  of  the  Thirty  Years' 
War;  or  for  the  austerities  of  Calvin  or  Knox;  or  for 
the  "  immoderacies,"  as  Erasmus  calls  them,  of  Luther ; 
or  for  the  inanities  of  many  of  the  canonized  saints; 
or   for  the  occasional   comparatively   diminutive   dis- 
crepancies of  a  few  present-day  Christians.     Flowers 


138  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

are  not  judged  by  their  sprouts  nor  trees  by  the  worms 
that  infest  their  bark.  Instead  of  viHfying  other  re- 
ligions it  is  better  to  avoid  bringing  discredit  on  our 
own. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Like  Milton,  Linnaeus,  Cuvier,  and  Gibbon,  Mo- 
hammed, as  indicated  by  his  unusually  large  head,  was 
likely  somewhat  hydrocephalic,  a  fact  which  he  at- 
tempted in  vain,  it  would  seem,  to  conceal  by  letting 
his  hair  grow  long.  He  had  other  so  named  "  stig- 
mata of  degeneracy," — large  ears,  hands,  and  feet, 
which  but  show,  in  spite  of  Lombroso,  how  little  con- 
fidence can  be  placed  in  these  signs  as  indications  of 
character. 

Byron's  head,  to  the  contrary,  was  more  than  ordi- 
narily small.  Yet  he  was  born  in  convulsions  —  un- 
usual in  any  child,  but  especially  in  small-headed  chil- 
dren —  and  subsequently  deviated  so  much  from  his 
normal  national  type  that  neither  his  physiognomy, 
as  you  may  have  noticed,  nor  his  character  is  Eng- 
lish. This  m.ay  be  observ^ed  in  many  of  the  numerous 
contemporary  portraits  of  Byron.  None  of  them  are 
typically  English;  and  a  very  familiar  one,  which 
for  distinction  we  call  the  portrait  with  the  calla-lily 
collar,  is  decidedly  Greekish.  Remove  the  collar  and 
he  becomes  Apollo. 

Geniuses  frequently  do  this, — >  that  is,  depart  from 
the  common  standard  of  their  country  in  certain 
anatomic  as  well  as  mental  qualities,  which  is  the 
reason  at  times  for  their  not  being  understood. 

139 


140  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

Judging  from  the  past,  to  be  genuinely  despised  and 
rejected  and  spat  upon  by  your  contemporaries,  you 
must  be  extraordinarily  superior.  This  may  be  a  com- 
fort to  the  reader  later  on,  since  none  of  us  are,  but 
always  to  be,  appreciated  at  our  own  estimate.  Such 
persons  are  so  exceptional  to  the  placid  uniformity  of 
ordinary  men  who  are  not  distinguished  even  in  their 
vices,  the  easiest  way  except  martyrdom  of  becoming 
distinguished,  that  it  takes  generations  of  special  train- 
ing before  they  are  properly  appreciated. 

Mohammed,  who  was  as  fortunate  in  the  selection 
of  his  nation  as  in  his  parents  and  occupation,  which, 
like  Hesiod,  King  David,  and  Allan  Ramsey,  was 
sometimes  that  of  a  shepherd,  was  an  exception  to  this 
rule  so  universally  applicable  to  men  of  great  ability. 
When  medieval  Christian  countries  groveled  in  semi- 
barbarism  and  usually  assassinated  their  benefactors, 
Arabia  was  getting  ready  for  the  reception  of  her 
Prophet  by  the  cultivation  of  language,  oratory, 
poetry,  and  all  the  arts  of  appreciation.  On  what 
other  hypotheses  can  we  explain  the  quick  acceptance 
and  apparently  miraculous  growth  of  that  Islam  and 
Islamic  culture  that  became  such  an  inspiration  to 
other  nations  and  continued  so  for  centuries? 

As  if  not  to  be  diverted  by  impedimenta  said  to  be 
insurmountable,  Mohammed's  matrimonial  experiences 
offer  in  his  own  person  a  convincing  refutation  of  the 
theory  held  by  Goethe,  Lord  Bacon,  and  many  others : 
namely, —  that  a  wife  is  an  obstruction  to  great  enter- 
prise, and  that  the  best  works  and  those  of  greatest 


MOHAMMED  141 

advantage  to  the  public  have  proceeded  from  unmar- 
ried or  childless  men.  Fresh  from  the  study  of  Mo- 
hammed, we  cannot  agree  with  them.  And  Bach,  the 
musician,  with  his  eleven  sons  and  nine  daughters,  not 
to  mention  symphonies  and  many  other  compositions, 
w^ould  seem  to  be  an  emphatic  refutation,  if  anything 
w^ere  needed  to  refute  such  an  absurd  theory.  Not 
only  in  this,  but  in  every  relation  of  life  the  Prophet's 
noble  serenity  of  soul  created  sympathy  and  rever- 
ence,—  the  greater  the  intimacy  the  greater  the  esteem, 
for  he  was  a  model  even  to  his  intimates.  "  In  all  the 
time  I  served  the  Prophet,"  says  one  of  his  servants, 
*'  he  never  as  much  as  said  '  Uff '  to  me."  As  con- 
trasted with  this  see  Corpus  Historicoruui  Mcdii  /Evi, 
G.  Eccard,  vol.  ii;  also  John  Buchardi's  Diarium,  pp. 
21,  34.  Buchardi  was  high  chamberlain  to  Pope 
Alexander  VI.,  and  ought  to  know. 

Nor  did  his  greatness  need  the  meretricious  aid  of 
pomp,  like  so  many  self-exalted  pretenders.  When 
he  had  conquered  his  w^orld,  he  made  a  triumphant 
entry  into  the  vanquished  city  of  Medina, —  without 
the  barbaric  but  usual  accompaniment  of  chained  cap- 
tives,—  riding  on  a  white  mule,  carrying  only  a  para- 
sol for  protection  against  the  broiling  sun,  and  with 
but  an  unfurled  turban  fastened  to  the  end  of  a  pole 
as  an  imperial  banner. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

His  views  of  slavery  were  in  advance  of  those  of 
Judaism  or  Christianity  as  then  understood.  He  did 
not  aboHsh  it  as  he  might  have  done  and  as  he  did 
idolatry,  fetish  worship,  promiscuity,  gambling,  drink- 
ing, revenge,  polyandry,  usury,  intolerance,  and  op- 
pression of  widows,  orphans,  and  captives  taken  in 
battle ;  yet  in  declaring  that  "  all  Mohammedans  are 
brothers "  he  w^ould  not  have  thought  of  discrimi- 
nating between  black  and  white,  and  that  "  no  man 
should  hold  his  brother  in  bondage  "  he  set  free  vast 
numbers  of  slaves.  For  the  moment  a  slave  owned 
by  a  Mohammedan  becomes  a  Mohammedan  he  be- 
comes a  free  man. 

He  made  it  an  offense  too  in  selling  slaves  to 
separate  the  miOther  from  the  child, —  a  custom  that 
was  in  vogue  by  other  people  centuries  after  Moham- 
med made  it  a  crime. 

Another  law  appertaining  to  slavery  from  the 
Koran  is,  "If  slaves  come  to  you,  you  shall  not  im- 
prison them,  nor  sell  them  at  public  sale,  though  no 
claimant  appear,  but  redeem  them ;  and  it  is  forbidden 
to  you  to  send  them  away."  Thus  may  be  seen  that 
the  fugitive  slave  law  prevailed  among  Mohammedans 
centuries  before  it  was  thought  of  by  Christian  or 
Jewish   slave-owners.     Again,    "  Unto   such   of  your 


MOHAMMED  143 

slaves  as  desire  a  written  instrument  allowing  them  to 
redeem  themselves  on  paying  a  certain  amount," —  the 
fee  of  manumission  as  we  called  it, — "  write  one;  and 
if  ye  know  good  of  them,  give  them  of  the  riches  of 
God  which  He  hath  given  you." 

His  utterances  about  repentance  appeal  also  to  rea- 
son. "  Verily  repentance  will  be  accepted  of  God  by 
those  who  do  evil  ignorantly  and  then  repent  speedily. 
Unto  them  God  will  turn,  for  He  is  knowing  and  wise. 
But  no  repentance  will  be  accepted  from  those  who 
do  evil  until  the  time  of  death,  when  death  presenteth 
itself  unto  one  of  them,  and  he  saith,  '  Verily,  I  repent 
now.'  " 

Thus  a  death-bed  repentance  is  a  futility,  according 
to  Mohammed.  So  that  no  serving  the  devil  during 
the  activity  of  vigorous  life  and  then  dedicating  its 
last  enfeebled  moments  to  God  counts  with  Islam. 

Persons  prejudiced  against  Mohammed  may  con- 
demn him  too  for  his  sensual  paradise.  But  in  fact 
no  paradise  can  be  imagined  which  is  not  sensual,  be- 
cause, as  John  Locke  has  proved,  no  idea  can  be  en- 
tertained by  man  except  through  the  medium  of  his 
senses;  it  therefore  follows  that  if  he  is  to  entertain 
any  idea  of  a  paradise  at  all  it  must  of  necessity  be 
sensuous. 

A  writer  in  the  Westminster  Review,  says  Mr.  Hig- 
gins  in  his  book  "  Mohammed  the  Illustrious,"  has  so 
well  vindicated  the  Prophet  of  the  East  that  the  au- 
thor cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  giving  a  rather 
long  extract  from  his  essay.     Says  this  writer: 


144  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

"  After  all  the  abuse  that  has  been  thrown  upon 
I^Iohammed  for  his  paradise  —  and  it  makes  the  headi 
and  front  of  every  man's  vituperative  argument  —  the 
simple  fact  is  that  he  promised  the  restoration  of  man 
to  the  Mosaic  Eden,  where,  if  there  were  many  Adams 
it  was  equally  inevitable  there  must  be  many  Eves. 
This  may  not  reach  the  elevation  of  *  What  eye  hath 
not  seen  nor  ear  heard,'  but  it  at  all  events  attains 
the  point  at  which  the  Christian  theology  sets  out. 
His  words  continually  are,  '  Theirs  shall  be  the  gardens 
of  Eden ; '  and  then  he  proceeds  to  enumerate  the 
rivers,  the  trees,  the  apples,  and  above  all  the  '  help- 
mates meet,'  of  the  Mosaic  account.  It  must  be 
remembered  that  rivers  are  as  rare  in  Arabia  as  land 
is  in  Venice,  and  that  the  other  delights  of  the  Islam 
heaven  are  as  comparatively  rare.  That  he  excludes 
woman  from  his  paradise  is  one  of  the  falsehoods  that 
have  been  fastened  on  him  by  his  enemiies,  for  he 
reiterates  the  declaration  that  *  whoso  worketh  good, 
whether  male  or  female,  shall  enter  paradise,  where 
the  same  glories  are  distinctly  promised  to  both.'  And 
lest  there  should  be  any  doubt  whether  the  wives  of 
believers  are  to  keep  them  company,  he  expressly  de- 
scribes the  faithful  as  entering  the  garden  of  Eden 
'  with  their  fathers,  their  wives,  and  their  children,' 
while  in  another  place  he  says,  '  They  and  their  wives 
shall  recline  in  shady  groves.' 

"  But  the  Eden  of  Milton  is  not  more  chaste,  and 
is  infinitely  less  reserved,  than  that  of  the  Arabian; 
and  no   contrast   can  be   stronger   than  between  his 


MOHAMMED  145 

imagery  and  that  of  the  Hebrew  poetry,  which  he 
might  have  taken  for  his  model. 

"  In  his  description  of  the  women  of  paradise  there 
is  nothing  to  excite  voluptuous  ideas.  They  are  said 
to  be  virgins  —  like  the  virgin  daughters  of  Bethuel, 
and  like  the  other  believers  they  are  restored  to  the 
prime  of  youthful  beauty  in  which  mankind  may  be 
supposed  to  have  come  from  the  hands  of  the  Creator. 

"  But  as  in  the  '  Song  of  Solomon '  they  have 
neither  necks  like  towers  of  *  ivory,'  nor  '  mouths  that 
cause  the  lips  of  those  that  are  asleep  to  speak,'  nor 

*  bosoms  like  clusters  of  the  vine,'  nor  '  breasts  like  two 
young  roes  that  are  twins  feeding  among  lilies,'  nor 

*  the  joints  of  their  thighs  like  jewels,  the  work  of  the 
hands  of  a  cunning  workman.'  They  neither  invite 
their  paradisiacal  partners  to  kiss  them  with  the  kisses 
of  their  mouths,  nor  to  lie  like  a  bunch  of  myrrh, 
.  .  .  nor  to  turn,  and  be  till  daybreak  like  a 
young  hart  upon  the  mountains  of  spices,  nor  to  get 
him  to  the  mountain  of  myrrh  and  the  hill  of  frankin- 
cense till  the  shadows  flee  away,  nor  to  take  a  thousand 
current  coins  from  his  vineyard,  while  the  keeper  of 
the  fruit  claims  two  hundred  in  return,  nor  to  tempt 
him  to  the  fields  under  seductive  promises. 

These  are  the  luxuries  of  other  creeds,  the  figures 
which  the  nations  of  Europe  think  fitted  to  excite  re- 
ligious hopes  and  pious  expectations." 

"  The  spouses  of  the  Arabian  teacher  sit  with  their 
dark  eyes  cast  down  modestly  in  the  presence  of  their 
husbands,    like    pearls    concealing    themselves    within 


146  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

their  shells,"  and  even  the  patriarchal  polygamy 
seems  forgotten  as  something  tolerable  on  earth  but 
not  good  enough  for  heaven.  The  beautiful  pairs  re- 
cline by  the  never  failing  waters  of  heaven,  surrounded 
by  the  haniiless  luxuries  v^hich  constitute  domestic 
comfort  or  splendor  in  the  East.  And  if  they  some- 
times fill  their  cup  with  a  richer  draught,  it  is  described 
as  innocent  and  harmless,  with  no  power  to  disturb 
the  intellect  nor  disorder  the  mind.  There  converse 
is  unearthly  and  pure,  and  timed  with  the  delights  of 
souls  escaped  from  earth,  and  safe  in  heaven. 

"  No  vain  discourse  there  heard,  nar  thought  of  sin, 
But  this  one  word,  peace,  peace,    (Salaam,   Salaam)." 

Such  are  literally  translated  the  words  used  by  Mo- 
hammed in  describing  Paradise,  so  that  the  reader 
may  see  for  himself  that  even  the  heaven  of  Islam  is 
not  "  the  coarse  sensual  resort,"  as  has  been  said,  "  in- 
vented by  a  licentious  epileptic,  to  lure  his  dupes  to 
destruction." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Men  may  be  known  by  the  things  they  laugh,  at, 
the  things  they  admire  and  disHke,  by  the  guardedness 
and  correctness  of  their  speech,  by  their  taste  in 
the  matter  of  metaphors  and  comparisons.  Moham- 
med's speech  was  always  striking  and  dignified,  full 
of  poetic  allusion  and  stately  diction,  though  often 
drawing  his  illustrations  from  his  own  experience  and 
the  commonplace  occurrences  of  every-day  life. 

In  talking  of  one  of  the  rivers  of  paradise  —  a  river 
was  the  great  wonder  and  luxury  of  the  man  living 
in  the  arid  desert  —  he  said,  "  It  is  smoother  than 
cream,  sweeter  than  honey,  and  more  odoriferous  than 
musk,"  thus  alluding  to  the  simple  pleasures  of  the 
unpretentious  home  in  which  he  temperately  delighted, 
and  where  his  almost  exclusive  food  consisted  of  milk, 
honey,  olives,  and  the  smell  of  musk,  with  barley  bread 
and  water  his  occasional  luxury. 

On  another  occasion  he  said :  "  The  sword  is  the  key 
of  heaven  and  of  hell.  A  drop  of  blood  shed  in  the 
cause  of  God,  a  night  spent  in  alms,  is  of  more  avail 
than  two  months  of  fasting  and  prayer.  At  the  day 
of  judgment  the  wounds  of  the  defenders  of  the  faith 
shall  be  as  resplendent  as  vermilion  and  as  odorifer- 
ous as  musk,  and  the  loss  of  their  limbs  shall  be  sup- 
plied by  the  wings  of  angels  and  cherubim."     In  his 

147 


148  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

figures  of  speech  he  thus  frequently  indicates  a  child- 
like delight  and  ascribes  childlike  importance  to  flying 
—  he  was  as  fond  evidently  of  floating  in  space  as  a 
modern  aviator,  and  seems  also  to  have  been  as  much 
addicted  to  harmless  olfactory  revelries  as  topers  are 
to  the  degrading  revelries  of  drink. 

He  was  fond  of  tautologies,  as  we  might  call  them, 
of  the  sword,  recurring  to  the  figurative  use  of  that 
favorite  implement  frequently,  the  only  use  to  which 
he  ever  personally  put  it.  Such  lines  as  Christ's  "  I 
came  not  to  bring  peace  but  a  sword  "  and  Moham- 
med's "  Paradise  is  under  the  shadow  of  the  sword  " 
readily  lend  themselves  to  identity  of  interpretation, 
and  there  are  many  such  parallel  passages  in  the  Bible 
and  in  the  Koran. 

This  picturesqueness  of  descriptive  comparison  was 
a  national  trait.  We  remember  one  of  the  Prophet's 
officers,  in  alluding  in  the  stately  diction  of  his  poetic 
race  to  the  cause  of  his  own  promotion,  said :  *'  The 
Prince  of  Believers  spread  before  him  the  arrows  of 
his  quivers  and  tried  every  one  of  them  by  biting  its 
wood," — meaning  that  his  imperial  master  had  sub- 
mitted him  to  a  severe  test  and  he  had  passed  it. 

Another  distinction  of  the  Prophet,  according  to 
Gibbon,  was  that  he  taught  the  doctrine  of  the  Im- 
maculate Conception  of  the  Virgin  Mary  centuries  be- 
fore it  was  accepted  by  the  Mother  Church.  This  con- 
viction, it  would  seem,  was  proclaimed  by  Moham- 
med in  the  beginning  of  his  career,  and  not  until 
twelve  hundred  years  afterward  was  it  accepted  as  a 


MOHAMMED  149 

doctrine  of  Catholic  faith.  The  dispute  about  it  lasted 
through  the  centuries,  and  at  one  time  was  nearly  as 
effective  as  the  Reformation  in  splitting  Christianity 
in  two. 

It  was  finally  settled  by  the  church  on  December 
8,  1854,  that  it  should  become  an  article  of  universal 
belief,  a  dozen  centuries  after  it  had  been  proclaimed 
by  Mohammed.  He  also  at  this  early  date  included 
the  Virgin  Mary  among  "  the  four  perfect  women," — 
Miriam,  the  sister  of  Moses;  Cadijah,  his  first  wife; 
the  Virgin  Mary,  and  Fatima,  his  daughter.  And  by 
the  way  the  "  Boycott,"  the  invention  of  which  has 
been  ascribed  to  Irish  patriotism,  was  used  by  certain 
semi-barbarous  enemies  as  an  instrument  of  coercion 
against  Mohammed  in  the  early  part  of  his  mission. 
The  readers  of  Csesar's  Commentaries  also  will  recall 
that  he  too  used  the  method  since  known  as  the  "  Boy- 
cott" against  a  certain  Gaulish  king,  who  had  been 
guilty  of  the  impudence  and  the  audacity  of  ''  anni- 
hilating one  of  his  legions  and  two  of  his  important 
generals." 

Everything  to  Mohammed  was  a  sign  or  symbol  of 
Deity.  "  Look  over  the  world,"  he  says.  *'  Is  it  not 
wonderful?  If  your  eyes  were  open  you  would  see 
that  the  Almighty  made  it  for  you.  The  great  clouds, 
born  in  the  deep  bosom  of  Immensity,  they  are  sus- 
pended by  Allah  to  revive  a  dead  earth ;  and  grass  and 
leafy  palms,  with  their  clusters  of  dates,  are  a  sign 
of  His  consideration  for  man.  .  .  .  Your  cattle, 
too,  Allah  made  them,  to  change  grass  into  milk  for 


150  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

you,  and  to  give  their  skin  for  clothing."  "  And  what 
of  ships?"  he  continues.  "Huge  moving  mountains, 
they  spread  out  their  cloth  wings  when  heaven's  winds 
drive  them  over  the  surface  of  the  deep.  Anon  God 
has  withdrawn  the  winds  and  they  lie  motionless  and 
dead."  "  Miracle!  "  he  cries.  "  What  miracles  would 
you  have?  Are  not  you  miracles  yourselves?  You 
were  small  once,  a  few  years  ago  you  were  not  at  all. 
Ye  have  beauty,  strength,  thought.  Ye  have  com- 
passion one  upon  another.  He  might  have  made  you 
without  compassion."  "  Old  age  comes  on  you  and 
grey  hairs.  Your  strength  fades  into  feebleness.  Ye 
sink  down  and  again  are  not." 

Thus  to  his  eyes  it  is  everywhere  evident  that  the 
world  is  miraculous  and  that  God  made  it;  that 
this  great  solid  earth  is  nothing  but  an  evidence  of 
the  existence  of  the  great  Spirit  back  of  it  all.  This 
in  his  heart  he  never  seems  to  have  lost  sight  of,  but, 
to  the  contrary,  implies  in  all  his  teachings  that  the 
God  of  nature  has  impressed  His  personality  on  all 
His  works  and  His  laws  on  the  heart  of  man.  To 
restore  the  knowledge  of  the  one  and  the  practise  of 
the  other  he  believed  had  been  the  aim  of  all  true 
Prophets  of  religion,  "  beginning  with  Adam,"  and 
ending  with  himself.  And  he  maintained,  according 
to  the  united  testimony  of  his  wives, —  surely  a  severe 
test, — ■"  the  dignity,  gentleness,  and  enthusiasm  of  a 
Prophet  to  the  end."  He  further  believed  that  all 
children  were  born  Islamites, —  that  is,  submissive  to 
the  will  of  God, —  and  if  not  interfered  with  by  false 


MOHAMMED  151 

teachers,  would  remain  true  to  their  heaven-given  sub- 
mission. This  impHed  wonderful  faith  in  God  and  in 
humanity.  Islamism,  he  believed,  prevailed  from  the 
beginning  of  time.  Yet  he  was  tolerant  of  all  re- 
ligions not  interfering  with  just  laws  and  not  aggres- 
sively idolatrous. 

"  When  the  leaves  of  the  book  shall  be  unrolled 
And  when  the  Heaven  shall  be  stripped  away, 
When  Hell  shall  be  made  to  blaze 
And  when  Paradise  shall  be  brought  near, 
Every   soul   shall  know  what  it  hath  produced. 
And  whosoever  shall  have  wrought  an  atom's  worth  of  good 

shall  behold  it. 
And  whosoever  shall  have  wrought  an   atom's   worth   of  evil 

shall  behold  it." 

See  Weil's  Geschichte  des  Chalifen,  Manheim,  3  vols., 
8vo,  which  is  founded  upon  original  research  and 
which  is  one  of  the  best  books  on  the  subject. 


CHAPTER  XX 

"  Till  the  age  of  sixty  years,"  says  Gibbons,  '*  the 
strength  of  Mohammed,  in  spite  of  his  epileptic  fits, 
was  equal  to  the  spiritual  and  temporal  fatigues  of 
his  mission."  During  the  four  last  years  his  health  was 
on  the  decline.  His  mortal  disease  was  a  fever,  which 
deprived  him  at  times  of  the  use  of  his  reason. 

As  soon  as  he  became  aware  of  his  danger  he  began 
to  prepare  for  death.  He  beheld  with  firmness  the 
approach  of  the  last  enemy,  set  free  his  slaves,  gave 
minute  directions  about  his  funeral,  and  moderated 
the  sorrow  of  his  weeping  friends  by  bestowing  upon 
them  the  benediction  of  peace. 

Three  days  before  his  decease  he  performed  the 
function  of  public  prayer,  and,  according  to  the  testi- 
mony of  his  wives  and  companions,  *'  maintained  the 
dignity  of  an  Apostle  and  the  faith  of  an  enthusiast 
to  his  death." 

"  In  the  beginning  of  his  spiritual  triumphs  "  he 
preached  in  a  rude  mosque  erected  by  himself  in  con- 
nection with  his  dwelling  in  Medina.  When  he  ex- 
horted or  prayed  in  the  weekly  assembly,  the  trunk 
of  a  palm  tree  was  his  resting-place,  and  so  wedded 
was  he  to  simple  primitive  conditions  that  it  was  long 
before  he  indulged  himself  in  the  use  of  pulpit  or  a 
chair. 

15^ 


MOHAMMED  153 

In  a  familiar  discourse  with  friends  he  had  men- 
tioned a  special  prerogative  which  he  desired ;  namely, 
—  that  "  the  angel  of  death  should  not  be  allowed  to 
take  his  soul  without  respectfully  asking  his  permis- 
sion." The  request  was  granted,  the  scribe  confidently 
asserts,  and  Mohammed  immediately  fell  into  the 
agony  of  dissolution,  his  head  reclining  on  the  lap  of 
Ayesha,  the  best  beloved  of  his  wives. 

Nothing  was  as  touching  in  his  life  as  was  his 
taking  off.  The  common  cares  of  life  had  been  taken 
from  him  by  the  motherly  hand  of  Cadi j ah,  but 
heavier  ones  now  seemed  to  weigh  down  his  whole 
being. 

Returning  from  the  victory  of  Mecca  he  occupied 
himself  again  with  the  carrying  out  of  his  expedition 
against  Syria,  but  fell  ill  soon  after  his  return.  "  One 
night  while  suffering  from  an  attack  of  fever,"  says 
a  contemporary,  "  he  went  to  the  cemetery  of  Medina, 
and  prayed  and  wept  upon  the  tombs,  praising  the 
dead,  and  wishing  that  he  himself  might  be  delivered 
from  the  storms  of  the  world.  At  last,  unable  to  go 
around,  he  chose  the  home  of  Ayesha,  situated  near 
the  mosque,  as  his  abode  during  his  sickness.  He 
took  part  in  the  public  prayers  as  long  as  he  could. 
Finally,  feeling  that  his  hour  had  come,  he  once  more 
preached  to  the  people.  He  asked,  like  Moses, 
whether  he  had  wronged  any  one,  and  if  so  he  would 
make  reparation.  His  words  were :  "  Is  there  any  one 
whom  I  have  unjustly  punished?  I  submit  my  own 
back  to  the  lash  of  retaliation.     Have  I  aspersed  a 


154  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

Mussulman?  Let  him  proclaim  my  faults  in  the  face 
of  the  congregation.  Has  any  one  been  despoiled  of 
his  goods  by  me?  The  little  I  have  shall  compensate 
him."  One  cried,  "  I  am  entitled  to  three  drachms  of 
silver."  *'  The  Prophet  promptly  thanked  him  for  ac- 
cusing him  in  this  world  instead  of  at  the  day  of  judg- 
ment and  satisfied  his  demand."  He  read  passages 
from  the  Koran  preparing  the  minds  of  his  hearers 
for  his  death,  and  exhorted  them  to  peace  among 
themselves  and  to  live  strictly  according  to  the  tenets 
of  the  faith. 

In  his  last  wanderings  he  only  spoke  of  angels  and 
heaven.  He  fainted  with  the  violence  of  pain.  Re- 
covering, he  raised  his  eyes  heavenward,  and,  with  a 
steady  look  but  faltering  voice,  uttered  the  last  broken 
though  articulate  words,  **  Oh,  God,  .  .  .  pardon 
my  sins."  Then,  after  a  silence  broken  only  by  the 
sobbing  of  friends,  "  Yes,  I  come  — "  There  was  an- 
other suspension  of  speech,  with  shortness  of  breath- 
ing, when  he  continued  the  sentence,  "  among  my 
fellow-citizens  on  high."  Then  he  peacefully  ex- 
pired on  a  prayer-rug  spread  upon  the  floor,  with  his 
head  in  the  lap  of  his  wife  Ayesha. 

His  death  caused  great  excitement  among  the  faith- 
ful, and  Omar,  who  himself  would  not  at  first  believe 
it,  tried  to  persuade  the  people  that  Mohammed  was 
still  alive.  Finally,  Abu  Beker  spoke  to  the  assembled 
multitude  and  made  the  fact  of  his  death  definite. 
*'  Whoever  among  you  served  Mohammed,"  he  said, 
*'  let  him  know  that  Mohammed  is  dead ;  but  he  who 


MOHAMMED  155 

has  served  the  God  of  Mohammed,  let  him  continue  in 
His  service,  for  He  is  still  alive  and  never  dies." 

Like  in  the  case  of  Caesar,  we  are  unable  also  in  Mo- 
hammed's case,  because  of  his  having  left  almost  no 
direct  heirs,  to  trace  his  disease  in  his  offspring.  The 
four  sons  and  four  daughters  borne  to  him  by  Cadi j ah 
all  died  in  childhood.  Fatima,  his  only  surviving  child, 
whom  he  placed  among  the  four  perfect  women,  and 
the  boy  borne  to  him  by  his  only  concubine,  the  Afri- 
can, also  died  young.  There  is  an  intimation  though, 
in  Weil's  Geschichte  des  Chalifen,  that  either  Fatima 
or  her  children  did  inherit  the  malady  of  their  ''  dis- 
tinguished progenitor." 

Yet,  in  spite  of  its  founder,  there  was  and  is  more  or 
less  intolerance  among  Mohammedans  as  there  was 
and  is  among  Christians  and  Jews.  This  intolerance 
will  never  cease  until  man  becomes  omniscient,  or  in- 
different to  religion  altogether.  But  neither  Jesus  nor 
Mohammed  taught  intolerance.  Yet  if  there  had  not 
been  this  feeling  of  belligerent  antagonism  among 
these  three  prominent  religions,  to  mention  them 
chronologically, —  Judaism,  Christianity,  Islamism, — 
Lessing  would  have  had  no  occasion  to  write  "  Nathan 
der  Weise,"  nor  the  parable  of  "  The  Three  Rings." 
.  Instead  of  bigotry  the  Koran  contains  the  following 
sentiments:  *' If  the  Lord  had  pleased,  all  who  are 
in  the  earth  would  have  believed  together,  and  wilt 
thou  force  men  to  be  believers?  No  man  can  believe 
but  by  permission  of  God,  and  He  will  pour  out  His 
indignation    on    those    who    will    not    understand." 


156  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

A  milder  assertion  this  than  that  of  the  Hebrew, — 
"  Vengeance  is  mine.  I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord." 
Again  the  Koran  says :  "  Let  there  be  no  forcing  in 
religion.  The  right  way  has  been  made  clearly  ap- 
parent from  the  wrong."  And  again,  "  Fight  in  the 
way  of  God  with  them  that  fight  with  you,  but  be  not 
the  aggressor,  for  God  loveth  not  aggressors.  .  .  . 
If  they  give  over,  then  practice  no  hostility  except 
against  the  treacherous." 

Instead  of  Mohammedanism's  being  propagated  at 
the  point  of  the  sword,  as  Christianity  often  was,  a 
contradiction  may  be  found  in  the  fact  that  it  was  after 
the  Turks  had  conquered  the  Mohammedans  that  they 
adopted  their  religion.  This  would  seem  unique  in  the 
history  of  creeds  that  the  conqueror  should  almost 
unanimously  and  immediately  adopt  the  faith  of  the 
vanquished.  It  would  be  like  the  ancient  Egyptians, 
subduing  the  Jews  and  then  abandoning  their  idols  for 
the  God  of  Israel;  or  like  Christendom's  conquering 
China,  and  then  giving  up  Christ  and  adopting  ancestor 
worship  and  the  tenets  of  Buddha,  which  would  but 
be  a  compliment  to  the  religion  of  the  Flowery  King- 
dom, implying  anything  but  a  resort  to  anns  to  coerce 
it.  Mohammed  did  not  resort  to  arms  until  his  re- 
ligion was  well  under  way,  and  then  to  a  great  extent 
for  self-preservation. 

He  naturally  gave  offense  to  the  keepers  of  the 
Caaba,  to  superintendents,  and  to  makers  of  idols. 
Idol-making  was  as  important  an  industry  in  Mecca 
during  the  time  of  Mohammed  as  it  was  in  Ephesus 


MOHAMMED  157 

during  the  time  of  Paul,  and  it  nearly  ended  the  career 
of  both.  He  gave  offense  also  to  the  various  people 
connected  with  fetish  worship,  whose  living  depended 
on  the  old  methods  of  beliefs.  In  fact,  like  most  re- 
formers, Mohammed  gave  offense  to  everybody,  for 
being  a  reformer,  not  only  in  Arabia  but  anywhere, 
is  as  unfortunate  as  being  a  bull  in  Spain  or  a  wren  in 
Ireland. 

The  growth  of  his  creed  in  the  few  first  years  was 
very  slow.  At  the  end  of  three  years  of  continuous 
talking  with  people,  and  quiet  reasoning,  he  had  but 
thirteen  followers  and  at  one  crisis  in  his  affairs  but 
two, —  an  illiterate  old  man  and  a  boy  of  sixteen.  Yet, 
in  spite  of  counsel  to  the  contrary  from  friends  and  in- 
fluential members  of  his  own  family,  for  all  through 
his  life  he  was  highly  esteemed  by  his  intimates,  he 
continued  proclaiming  that  "  there  was  but  one  God, 
and  that  we  were  the  creatures  of  His  hands." 

He  was  conspired  against,  hated,  despised,  hunted 
from  place  to  place,  yet  saved  always  as  if  by  miracle. 
He  never  doubted  but  that  God  interposed  in  his  behalf 
to  save  him  from  his  enemies. 

Once,  concealed  in  a  cave,  over  the  mouth  of  which 
an  industrious  spider  had  ''  providentially "  spun  a 
web,  his  pursuers,  caught,  as  it  were,  by  the  net  set  for 
insects,  passed  on.  Again,  w^hile  hidden  in  a  cavern, 
into  which  a  passing  enemy  was  about  to  enter,  his 
horse  took  fright  and  fled,  carrying  him  far  away. 
Thus  "  the  Lord  effected  another  escape."  On  another 
occasion,  when  forty  sworn  men  had  resolved  to  thrust 


158  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

their  daggers  into  his  heart  at  the  same  time,  "  that 
the  guilt  of  his  death  might  be  divided  among  them," 
a  heroic  follower,  knowing  of  the  conspiracy,  risked 
his  own  life  under  the  green  quilt  that  covered  Mo- 
hammed when  he  slept  while  he  secured  the  Prophet's 
exit  through  an  unguarded  door.  This  was  during 
the  flight  to  Yathreb,  now  Medina.  The  whole  of 
Islam  dates  its  era  from  this  flight, —  hegira.  It  was 
then  that  for  the  first  time  the  "  Prince  of  Believers  " 
took  up  arms  and  resolved  "  to  defend  himself  like 
an  Arab  and  a  man."  And  for  ten  years  a  personally 
conducted  conflict  continued,  until  he  had  "  utterly 
conquered  and  won  over  all  his  enemies  and  the  great- 
est and  most  honorable  men." 

"  Mohammed,"  meaning  the  predicted  Messiah,  was 
the  titular  name  assumed  by  Halabi  as  the  founder  of 
the  new  faith,  and  ever  since  he  has  been  known  by  his 
assumed  name,  "  Mohammed." 

El  Amin,  the  safe  man, —  his  nickname  in  youth, — 
for  the  Arabs  are  as  much  given  to  soubriquets  as  the 
Italians,  intimates  the  estimate  in  which  he  was  held 
by  those  who  knew  him  best.  And  the  West,  too,  per- 
haps, instead  of  looking  upon  him  as  a  freakish  Ori- 
ental voluptuary,  part  knave  and  part  madman,  might 
have  regarded  him  as  interesting  and  as  capable  as 
Csesar,  if  Arabic,  instead  of  Latin,  had  been  a  part  of 
college  curricula. 

Imperfect  understanding  is  the  cause  of  much  of  the 
misconception  and  evil  of  the  world.  It  would  seem 
to  prefer  the  false  to  the  true,  the  mediocre  to  the  great, 


MOHAMMED  159 

and  through  incapacity  and  ill-nature  misinterprets  life 
and  character. 

By  those  disposed  to  a  new  justice  Mohammed  was 
said  to  be  a  fanatical  visionary  with  more  egotism  than 
sense.  He  had  his  visions  — *'  Where  there  is  no  vision 
the  people  perish/'  the  Bible  says, —  but  they  w^ere  on 
the  whole  righteous  and  exalted. 

As  long  as  he  lived  contentedly  with  the  wife  of  his 
heart,  which  he  did  until  her  death,  he  was  in  every  way 
an  example  to  his  people.  After  her  death  he  fell  into 
the  vices  he  condemned  in  others,  and  exhibited  the 
weakness  of  the  man.  Yet,  judging  from  almost  im- 
mediate results,  he  w^as  one  of  the  greatest  men  who 
ever  lived. 

He  was  said  by  a  contemporary  to  be  "  amiable, 
witty,  affable,  eloquent,  and  abundant  in  flowing  poetic 
thought,  and  one  of  the  purest  men  that  ever  lived." 
And  since  they  were  addicted,  both  he  and  his  suc- 
cessors, to  attaining  greatness  and  holding  it  in  high 
esteem,  the  reader  may  imagine  the  force  with  which 
they  subsequently  resented  the  insult  and  the  threat  of 
the  Crusaders, —  the  greatest  scoundrels  themselves 
that  ever  scuttled  a  ship  or  cut  a  throat, — ''  to  rescue 
the  royal  city  from  defiled  infidel  possession.'' 

Think  of  what  the  medieval  church,  with  a  few  ex- 
ceptions, was  then  and  at  subsequent  times!  Then 
think  of  their  proclaiming  a  resolve  to  rescue  a  certain 
Mohammedan  stronghold, —  Jerusalem, —  from  infi- 
del,— that  is,  Saracenic, —  defilement.  As  if  any  de- 
filement could  be  worse  than  their  own  then  and  since. 


i6o  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

See  "  The  Life  of  Bernard  of  Clairvaux  "  and  "  Hil- 
debrand  the  Great,"  that  twelfth  century  Spartan, — 
afterward  known  as  Pope  Gregory  VIL, —  in  order  to 
understand  something  of  the  baseness  of  Christianity 
in  the  Middle  Ages. 

It  has  been  said  that  he  pretended  illiteracy  in  order 
to  raise  in  the  popular  estimation  the  idea  that  the 
grace  of  diction  of  the  Koran  was  a  miracle. 

This,  however,  although  but  a  puerility  of  the  enemy, 
was  not  necessary  to  explain  the  production  of  the 
book,  since  his  ability  to  dictate  elegant  poetic  Arabic, 
independent  of  being  able  to  write  it,  might  easily  be 
due  to  the  fact  that  in  Arabia,  just  as  it  had  been  in 
Greece,  perfection  of  language  was  of  more  importance 
than  even  refinement  of  manners,  and  that  the  Arabic 
tongue  was  so  profuse  even  in  synon3rms  in  his  day 
that  it  could  furnish  "  four  score  names  for  honey, 
two  hundred  for  a  serpent,  five  hundred  equivalents 
for  a  lion,  and  one  thousand  for  a  sword."  This  was 
at  a  time,  too,  when  such  a  copiously  variegated  vocab- 
ulary was  trusted  to  the  memory  alone  of  an  illiterate 
and  myriad  people. 

A  fact  further  showing  how  skillful  his  countrymen 
must  have  been  in  the  use  of  words  is  that  from  time 
immemorial  poetry,  eloquence,  and  felicities  of  speech 
were  held  in  high  esteem  in  Arabia,  and  led  among 
them  to  positions  of  distinction  both  in  private  and 
public  life. 

These  were  the  people  that  the  Crusaders  said  defiled 
Jerusalem  by  possessing  it. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

Polygamy  is  the  feet  of  clay  in  the  rehgion  of 
Mohammed.  Yet  the  permission  to  have  a  Hmited 
number  of  wives, —  according  to  the  prophet,  "  not  to 
exceed  three,  but  best  one," —  w^as  morally  better  than 
anything  except  Christianity  that  had  yet  been  per- 
mitted by  former  civilizations.  And  it  was  much  bet- 
ter than  that  practiced  in  connection  with  the  only 
Christianity  that    Mohammed  knew  anything  about. 

To  know  what  the  founder  of  Islamism  achieved 
in  the  way  of  improved  morals  even  by  this,  the  weak- 
est part  of  his  system,  before  his  followers  had  sub- 
sided again,  as  we  are  told,  into  something  of  their 
original  depravity,  it  is  necessary  to  know  the  con- 
ditions in  such  matters  that  prevailed  in  his  country 
and  the  rest  of  the  world  before  and  when  he  began 
his  reform.  It  is  also  necessary  to  know  the  ethical 
status  of  the  more  civilized  people  subsequently. 

In  all  Arabia  and  Syria,  and  in  the  immediate  coun- 
tries into  which  Mohammed's  triumphs  extended,  un- 
limited polygamy  and  "  promiscuity  "  prevailed  among 
men,  and  polyandry  among  women.  The  latter  con- 
dition Caesar  found  also  in  Britain  during  the  Roman 
invasion,  and   it  existed  afterward. 

i6i 


i62  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

One  woman  would  have  all  the  brothers  of  a  family 
as  husbands,  the  eldest  being  chief.  This  was  com- 
mended, too,  by  the  wisdom  of  the  day  as  a  matter  of 
prudent  national  polity,  calculated  to  prevent  subse- 
quent family  feuds  about  the  division  of  estates. 

Among  the  Kandians  and  other  ancient  people  poly- 
andryism  prevailed  to  such  an  extent  that  a  matron  of 
high  caste  would  "  sometimes  be  the  wife  of  eight 
brothers."  Not  only  this,  but  there  were  also  associ- 
ated husbands  permitted,  who  had  no  claim  to  the 
property  of  the  wife  or  of  the  family.  This  and  worse 
was  the  popular  matrimonial  mode  in  the  Arabian  fa- 
therland before  the  advent  of  Mohammed. 

The  Eg}^ptians,  the  people  of  Asia  Minor,  and  the 
early  Persians  were  noted  for  a  moral  laxity  unspeak- 
able. Those  among  them  who  missed  being  influ- 
enced by  Mohammed's  reformation  have  remained  so 
still,  unless  they  have  been  converted  by  Christian 
missionaries. 

Among  the  civilizations  that  antedated  Moslemism 
that  of  the  land  of  the  Pharaohs  is  the  most  remote ; 
and  the  rites  of  its  favorite  god  and  goddess.  Iris  and 
Osiris,  to  mention  no  others,  reveal  a  state  of  moral  de- 
pravity demanding  the  concealment  of  a  foreign 
tongue. 

In  Babylon,  according  to  Herodotus,  "  every  woman 
was  obliged  to  commit  immorality  at  least  once,"  in  the 
temple  of  the  Chaldean  Venus,  whose  name  was 
Mylitta.  Groves  were  planted,  as  we  also  learn  from 
Scripture,  around  all  pagan  temples  to   facilitate  the 


MOHAMMED  163 

practice  of  vice,  or  ''  rites,"  as  they  were  called,  which 
constituted  the  chief  part  of  worship,  and  the  '*  wor- 
shipers," according  to  the  prevalent  conception  of  re- 
ligion, contributed  the  proceeds  of  their  depravity  to 
the  support  of  the  priest  and  the  temple.  See  Strabo ; 
also  the  article  on  "  Polyandry  "  in  the  Encyclopaedia 
Britannica. 

In  Chaldea  it  was,  if  possible,  worse;  and  in  the 
time  of  Alexander  the  Great,  as  shown  by  any  of  the 
contemporary  historians,  "'  Babylonian  banquets " 
were  scenes  of  unheard-of  excess.  Yet,  they  were 
participated  in  by  the  highest  families,  mothers,  fathers, 
daughters,  and  sons  taking  part  together  in  perform- 
ances unfit  to  mention. 

In  most  parts  of  Greece  licentiousness  was  religion, 
and  many  of  their  finest  temples  exhibited  scenes  of 
infamy  that  were  perpetrated  ostentatiously  rather 
than  in  concealment,  like  the  *'  hypocrites,"  in  the  days 
of  our  Lord,  "  who  prayed  on  street  corners  that  they 
might  be  seen  of  men."  The  lowest  men  in  the 
Prophet's  army  were  pillared  saints  of  continence  as 
compared  with  many  of  the  best  men  of  Greece,  where 
morality,  as  we  know  it,  was  unknown. 

The  French  artist  Gerome's  picture,  entitled  "  At 
the  House  of  Aspasia," — a  celebrated  courtesan,  as 
the  world  knows, —  shows  the  leading  men  of  Athens, 
including  the  ''  divine  "  Socrates,  associating  familiarly 
with  salable  women.  This  indicates  how  morally  ob- 
tuse the  otherwise  keen-witted  Greeks  were.  The  lead- 
ing women  of  Greece,  with  a  very  few  exceptions,  were 


i64  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

all  purchasable.  Instead  of  being  condemned  for  their 
lack  of  morality  they  were  highly  esteemed,  temples 
were  erected  in  their  honor,  and  frequently  they  re- 
ceived the  freedom  of  cities  and  sat  on  the  thrones 
with  rulers,  whose  wives  occupied  a  subordinate 
place. 

Solon,  the  lawgiver,  erected  in  the  vicinity  of  his 
own  home,  as  an  act  of  piety,  a  place  of  worship  of 
one  of  the  vilest  Venuses, —  for  every  particular  vice 
had  its  own  particular  Venus, —  and  he  decorated  it 
with  lewd  statuary.  This  was  done  as  an  act  of  devo- 
tion, just  as  we  erect  a  library,  a  church,  or  a  fountain, 
or  endow  a  bed  in  a  hospital.  The  responsible  polyg- 
amy of  Islam,  where  men  had  to  house  comfortably 
and  protect  their  wives  and  children,  was  an  advance 
over  the  *'  religious  "  immorality  of  Greece. 

Mohammed's  restriction  as  to  the  number  of  wives 
would  have  been  laughed  out  of  court  as  the  puritan- 
ism  of  a  cold-blooded  bigot  by  the  intellectual  people 
of  that  Greece  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  much  that 
is  great  in  our  civilization. 

Some  of  the  statuary  and  many  of  the  pictures  that 
ornamented  the  homes  of  her  aristocracy,  which  were 
fortunately  destroyed  by  the  pious  iconoclasts  of  subse- 
quent periods,  were  lewd  enough  to  cover  with  shame 
and  confusion  to-day  a  South  Sea  Islander.  Yet  '*  de- 
vout "  Greeks  not  only  delighted  in  them  but  burnt  in- 
cense and  performed  libidinous  rites  in  their  presence, 
and  supplicated  them  as  gods. 

Even  in  classic  literature  seductive  descriptions  of 


MOHAMMED  165 

scenes  of  all  sorts  of  unchastity  constitute  one  of  the 
greatest  dangers  to  the  young  student  of  such  writers, 
because  they  are  told  without  a  blush  by  masters  in  the 
use  of  language  and  are  pictured  with  every  refinement 
and  abnormality  of  vice.  Our  usually  euphemistic  and 
expurgated  translations  of  Greek  writers  give  the 
English  reader  no  idea  of  the  depravity  of  that  aesthetic 
and  cultured  people. 

In  pagan  Rome  the  state  of  morals,  even  among  the 
patricians  from  the  emperor  down,  Marcus  Aurelius 
being  a  conspicuous  exception,  during  many  periods 
was  so  unspeakable  that  the  poets  who  described  their 
manners  and  customs, —  Tibullus,  Ovid,  Propertius, 
Catullus,  Martial,  and  even  Horace, — ''  the  gentle- 
man's poet,"  as  Matthew  Arnold  calls  him, —  can 
hardly  be  literally  translated  into  modern  tongues  with- 
out exciting  protesting  gooseflesh.  Indeed,  the  very 
language  of  Rome  had  become  so  eloquently  obscene 
in  describing  the  social  life  of  the  people  that  it  was 
not  until  four  hundred  years  after  Christ' that  of  St. 
Augustine  it  was  said  that  one  of  his  great  achieve- 
ments was  that  he  "  converted  the  Latin  language  to 
Christianity." 

Not  only  such  moral  monsters  as  Caligula,  Nero, 
and  others,  but  better  men,  such  as  even  the  Emperor 
Augustus,  patron  of  letters  and  of  learned  men,  who 
gave  his  name  to  his  age,  were  "  beasts  abandoned 
without  shame  to  the  vilest  practices."  So  riotous 
was  vice  in  that  Rome  whose  civilization  after  Greece 
has  most  influenced  subsequent  ages  that  it  was  found 


1 66  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

necessary  to  compel  by  legal  enactment  all  evil  women 
to  "  dye  their  hair  blue  or  yellow  " — the  origin,  per- 
haps, of  "  the  bleached  blonde  " —  to  distinguish  them 
from  the  comparatively  respectable. 

Even  during  the  "  righteous  reign  "  of  "  the  good 
Emperor  Trajan,"  in  the  first  years  of  the  Christian 
era,  there  were  known  to  be  thirty-two  thousand  of 
these  dyed,  literally  stained  women,  vultures,  cor- 
ruptors  of  youth,  in  the  imperial  city  alone.  Besides 
there  were  numbers  not  registered,  protected  by  law, 
and  contributing  by  their  license  fee  to  the  support  of 
the  state.  So  much  was  the  army  in  need  of  soldiers 
that  if  women  at  eighteen  years  of  age,  married  or 
single,  had  not  given  birth  to  at  least  one  child,  they 
were  compelled  to  pay  a  fine. 

In  this  same  metropolis,  previous  to  Mohammed, 
there  were  thousands  of  these  "  hypocrites  of  passion," 
as  Milton  calls  such  characters.  Among  the  Islamites, 
when  they  numbered  millions  and  millions,  you  could 
not  find  fifty  abandoned  women.  Such  persons  were 
in  danger  any  minute  of  being  "sewed  up  in  sacks, 
with  a  viper  and  a  monkey,  and  cast  into  the  sea,"  this 
being  the  Mussulman's  punishment  for  "  incorrigible 
immorality,  to  be  put  into  execution  after  the  third 
offense." 

Not  only  the  social  life  of  pagan  Rome,  but  the  art 
of  it  too  was  appalling.  Pictures  illustrating  every  va- 
riety of  depravity  embellished  the  walls  of  the  homes 
of  the  best  people.  They  were  painted  by  great  artists, 
so  that,  as  Propertius  writes,  "  on  account  of  familiar- 


MOHAMMED  167 

Ity  with  pictured  infamy,  from  infancy  the  children 
in  any  family  were  not  allowed  to  remain  novices  in 
vice." 

We  may  imagine,  if  so  inclined,  what  must  have 
been  the  morals  of  a  people  who  esteemed  the  Grobian 
Martial  a  great  poet,  admitting  him  into  their 
homes.  Even  women,  of  the  household,  like  women 
in  Italy  later  in  the  Christian  era  during  the  days  of 
Boccaccio,  delighted  in  his  pruriencies.  In  Greece 
even  the  artist  Phidias  took  young  girls  into  his  home 
to  teach  them  the  arts  of  the  courtesan,  and  that,  too, 
without  his  losing  caste  in  "  high  society." 

The  first  Christians  of  Rome  gladly  suffered  death 
rather  than  participate  in  her  infamies.  If  there  were 
nothing  else  to  testify  to  this  moral  exaltation,  the  cat- 
acombs prove  it.  But  there  was  subsequent  declension 
at  various  periods  from  the  standard  of  Christ,  when 
the  church  became  merely  a  politico-religious  institu- 
tion, as  was  illustrated  during  the  time  of  such  charac- 
ters as  Pope  John  XXIL,  Sixtus  IV.,  or  Alexander  VI. 
The  system  that  could  elevate  such  monsters  to  such 
lofty  positions  must  have  been,  as  has  been  said,  "  rot- 
ten to  the  core,"  and  necessarily  gave  rein  to  even 
worse  practices  than  those  that  Mohammed  succeeded 
in  limiting  when  he  found  that  he  could  not  abolish 
them. 

Even  the  comparative  superiority  of  Leo  X.,  or  of 
Clement  VII.,  consisted  in  the  absence  of  the  grossest 
vices,  rather  than  in  the  presence  of  Christian  virtues. 
You  can  hardly  help  but  be  convinced, —  despite  the 


i68  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

pure  and  heroic  lives  of  its  martyrs, —  of  the  moral 
superiority  of  the  masses  in  general,  who  in  the  early 
centuries  of  Mohammedanism  during  the  reign  of  the 
glorious  Fatimic  Caliphs  lived  under  the  limited  polyg- 
amy that  his  religion  permitted. 

''  The  indulgences,  criminal  to  us,'*  says  Carlyle, 
"  which  the  prophet  permitted  were  not  of  his  appoint- 
ment. He  found  them  practiced  unquestioned  from 
time  immemorial  in  Arabia.  What  he  did  was  to  cur- 
tail them,  restrict  them,  not  on  one  but  many  sides." 

His  taking  up  of  burdensome  ablutions,  protracted 
fastings,  frequently  repeated  prayers,  incessant  alms- 
giving to  the  less  fortunate,  his  never  demanding  small 
or  great  tithes  or  emoluments  for  religious  sustenta- 
tion,  besides  his  making  essential  to  the  faith  the  prac- 
tice of  "  the  Christian  virtues,"  plurality  of  wives  be- 
ing excepted,  shows  that  his  purpose,  at  least,  was  not 
self-indulgence.  His  religion  did  not  succeed  because 
of  its  being  easy,  and  it  was  not,  as  was  said  by  his  ene- 
mies, "  the  gross  result  of  the  teachings  of  a  sensual 
epileptic  maniac."  The  many  unclean  things  read  by 
vulgar  minds  into  the  word  "  Harem,"  a  word  signify- 
ing "  holy  place,"  that  is,  the  place  set  apart  in  Oriental 
homes  for  women  and  children,  are  without  founda- 
tion. He  is  not  responsible  for  the  changes  made  in 
the  creed  and  practice  of  Islam  by  the  conquering 
Turks  any  more  than  the  Christianity  of  the  primitive 
church  is  responsible  for  the  superimposed  elaborations 
of  subsequent  sacerdotalism. 

Of  Judaism,   exalted  as  it  is  above  all  other  re- 


MOHAMMED  169 

ligions,  except  Christianity, —  to  which  it  is  related  as 
father  to  son, —  at  least  two  of  the  kings,  David  and 
Solomon,  had  a  greater  number  of  wives  without  con- 
demnatory criticism  than  any  of  the  Mohammedan 
rulers  had,  even  in  their  decline.  And  we  know,  too, 
according  to  the  Old  Testament,  that  protected  prosti- 
tution, though  never  permitted  by  Islamism,  was  com- 
mon among  the  Hebrews  at  least  two  thousand  years 
before  Christianity  tried  to  abolish  it,  and  Islam  al- 
most succeeded  in  doing  so. 

The  women  that  assembled  at  the  door  of  the  taber- 
nacle of  the  Congregation,  mentioned  in  First  Samuel, 
with  whom  Eli's  sons  disgraced  themselves  and  thus 
brought  shame  to  their  father,  were  professional  social 
pariahs,  and  were  known  as  such.  This  was  some- 
thing that  could  not  have  existed  in  the  early  centuries 
of  Mohammedanism. 

"  The  strange  woman  whose  lips  drop  as  an  honey- 
comb, and  whose  mouth  is  smooth  as  oil,  but  her  end  is 
bitter  as  wormwood  and  sharp  as  a  two-edged  sword," 
whom  Solomon  in  Proverbs  —  and  he  ought  to  have 
known  —  advises  men  to  avoid,  ''  remove  thy  way 
from  her  and  come  not  near  the  door  of  her  house," 
was  of  Mrs.  Warren's  profession.  Even  in  those 
ancient  days  she  was  a  familiar  type  and  had  her  own 
well-established  home. 

"  The  haughty  daughters  of  Zion,"  of  the  Prophet 
Isaiah,  "  who  walk  with  stretched-forth  necks  and 
wanton  eyes,  walking  and  mincing  as  they  go,  and 
making  a  tinkling  with  their  feet,"  are  '*  fashionables  " 


lyo  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

of  the  same  class,  delineated  by  the  pen  of  a  keen  ob- 
server. 

What  is  "  the  song  of  songs  which  is  Solomon's  " 
but  an  erotic  poem,  having  to  do  with  the  daintily  culti- 
vated lust  of  the  Orient,  decorated  with  bucolic  tropes 
and  metaphors  and  flowers  of  speech,  after  the  manner 
of  the  literary  artist  that  Solomon  was,  and  meant 
merely  as  a  picture  of  sumptuous  voluptuousness. 
Such  compositions  are  common  among  the  people  of 
the  Orient  still,  and  this  one  in  particular  is  simply  a 
convincing  illustration  of  the  one  hundred  and  one  ac- 
complishments, literary  and  otherwise,  for  which  the 
erring  son  of  David,  the  Oriental  Henry  VIII.,  but  less 
bloodthirsty,  was  celebrated.  Solomon,  however,  did 
not  have  to  kill  his  wives  before  the  church  would  per- 
mit him  to  marry  others. 

Moses  himself  took  an  Ethiopian  concubine,  and 
Jephthah,  a  chief  of  Israel  especially  honored  by  St. 
Paul,  without  in  any  way  suffering  compromise,  or 
without  there  being  any  necessity  for  silence  about  it, 
was  known  to  be  the  son  of  a  professional  harlot. 

Joshua's  spies  slept  openly  in  the  house  of  the 
chronic  adulteress  Rahab.  Samson  chose  the  home  of 
an  abandoned  woman  to  be  his  retreat  in  Geza,  and  his 
close  familiarity  with  another, —  Delilah, —  had  to  do 
with  his  tragedy.  The  disgrace  of  Samson,  according 
to  the  morality  of  the  times,  was  because  of  the 
women's  being  foreigners  rather  than  because  of  their 
being  courtesans. 

In  Christian  lands,  during  as  late  as  the  eleventh, 


MOHAMMED  171 

twelfth,  and  thirteenth  centuries,  immorality  prevailed 
to  such  an  extent  among  kings  and  people  that  many  of 
the  great  works  of  Gothic  architecture  dating  from  this 
period  were  as  profusely  adorned  with  lewd  sculptures 
as  Solomon's  songs  were  with  lewd  metaphors.  Their 
subjects  were  taken  from  the  lives  of  the  religious  or- 
ders as  Solomon's  more  justifiably  were  taken  from 
pastoral  life. 

"  These  obscene  works  of  art  formerly  encumbered 
the  doors,  windows,  arches,  and  niches  of  many  of  the 
finest  Gothic  cathedrals  of  France."  Modesty  has 
lately  insisted  on  their  removal,  but  the  works  them- 
selves have  been  rescued  from  destruction  by  the  zeal 
of  antiquarians  and  may  be  seen  now  only  inside  the 
locked  doors  of  museums.  It  is  said,  though,  that 
where  the  spirit  of  the  Reformation  has  not  penetrated 
some  of  these  pornorific  specimens  of  mediaeval  Chris- 
tian art  have  escaped  the  iconoclastic  hand  of  modern 
fastidiousness  and  may  still  be  seen  defying  decency  on 
their  original  foundations.  They  have  been  photo- 
graphed and  have  also  been  reproduced  by  the  art  of 
the  engraver. 

When  such  was  the  state  of  morals,  when  such  was 
the  depravity  of  religious  teachers,  and  when  there  was 
such  recognition  of  that  depravity  that  it  was  carved 
into  elaborate  works  of  art  and  set  up  as  decorations 
in  the  most  conspicuous  parts  of  places  of  "  Christian  " 
worship,  it  would  hardly  be  reasonable  to  expect  purity 
of  private  life  at  the  same  time,  or  from  the  same 
people. 


172  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

In  Rome  in  the  eleventh  century,  it  is  recorded,  a 
conspicuous  brothel  and  a 'church  stood  side  by  side. 
Five  hundred  years  afterward,  instead  of  such  evils, 
having  been  diminished  by  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy 
and  the  recognition  of  the  sacredness  of  chastity,  the 
social  evil  had  attained  such  enormous  proportions 
that  numerous  statutes  were  enacted  that  were  calcu- 
lated rather  to  foster  than  to  abolish  it.  Many  pre- 
cautions were  taken  for  the  same  purpose,  indicating 
the  barbarous  crudeness  as  well  as  cruelty  of  the 
period. 

For  example,  "  one  convicted  of  selling  a  girl  to  in- 
famy,"—  a  common  practice, — "  was  heavily  fined, 
and  if  he  did  not  pay  within  ten  days  he  had  one  foot 
cut  off."  Of  course  he  paid  and  the  state  was  the 
richer.  Tortures,  floggings,  brandings  with  red-hot 
iron,  banishments,  were  inflicted  on  some  to  terrorize 
others,  and  every  such  exhibition  increased  the  revenue. 

Relating  to  the  cruelty  and  disregard  for  life  in  the 
days  of  the  supremacy  of  the  Christian  church,  a 
twelfth  century  writer  says :  "  In  our  town  much  pil- 
lage and  murder  were  done  by  day  and  night.  Hardly 
a  day  passed  but  someone  was  killed."  Another  Ital- 
ian historian  of  the  same  period  says,  "  Treasons, 
assassinations,  tortures,  open  debauchery,  the  practice 
of  poisoning,  the  worst  and  most  shameful  outrages, 
are  unblushingly  and  publicly  tolerated  in  the  open 
light  of  heaven."  Another  relates  that  Caesar  Borgia, 
one  of  the  three  illegitimate  children  of  Pope  Alex- 
ander VI,  one  day  killed  Peroso,  ''  the  Pope's  favorite. 


MOHAMMED  173 

between  his  arms  and  his  cloak,  so  that  the  blood 
spurted  up  to  the  pope's  face,  without  even  the  farce 
of  a  trial  for  manslaughter."  "  Hippolyte  d'Este  had 
his  brother's  eyes  put  out  in  his  presence.  No  punish- 
ment was  inflicted  by  law."  See  Taine's  "  History  of 
English  Literature,"  article  on  "  Christian  Renais- 
sance." 

A  Roman  fisherman  was  asked  why  he  had  not  in- 
formed the  government  that  he  had  seen  a  body  thrown 
into  the  Tiber.  He  replied  that  he  had  seen  about  a 
hundred  bodies  thrown  into  the  river  at  the  same  place 
and  that  *'  no  one  had  ever  troubled  himself  about  it." 

Some  further  idea  of  the  declension  in  morals  from 
the  standard  of  the  primitive  Christian  church  may  be 
indicated  by  that  extraordinary  act  of  legislation  on 
the  subject,  the  bull  of  Pope  Clement  11,  who  in  the 
eleventh  century  desired  "  to  endow  the  churches  with 
the  surplus  gain  of  brothels." 

The  early  fathers  imposed  severe  penances  on 
sensual  sins.  The  more  thrifty  Clement  would  use  the 
proceeds  of  such  wickedness  for  the  enrichment,  as  he 
said,  "  of  the  holy  institution  founded  by  God."  Con- 
sequently everybody  profiting  by  the  social  evil  as  a 
gilded  road  to  opulence,  when  disposing  of  his  or  her 
property  either  at  death  or  during  life,  was  forced  to 
assign  a  half  of  it  to  a  convent. 

Thus  we  see  that  not  among  the  followers  of  the  false 
prophet,  but  in  Christian  lands  and  during  the  ages  of 
unbounded  faith  the  people  inheriting  the  best  code  of 
ethics  ever  formulated  were  as  notorious  for  cruelty. 


174  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

cupidity,  and  sensual  sin  as  they  were  celebrated  for  art 
and  eccentric  piety.  See  ''  Corpus  Historicum  Medii 
Veri,"  G.  Eccard,  Vol.  II ;  Diarium,  of  John  Buchardi, 
High  Chamberlain  to  Pope  Alexander  VI,  p.  2134; 
Guicciardini's  Del  Historia  d'ltalia,  p.  211 ;  also  "  Cas- 
sinova's  Memoirs,"  and  Scipione  Rossi's  "  Memoirs  of 
the  Convents  of  Tuscany  at  the  Close  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century";  also  section  on  "The  Christian  Renais- 
sance," in  Taine's  "  History  of  English  Literature." 

Dante,  that  grim  Puritan  of  the  Middle  Ages, — 
with  apologies  to  the  descendants  of  the  better  Puritans 
here, —  in  the  nineteenth  canto  of  the  "  Inferno  "  in  a 
perfervid  flight  compares  even  the  proclaimed  seat  and 
center  of  morality,  the  papal  court,  "  to  Babylon,  the 
mother  of  harlots."  On  visiting  hell,  he  finds  Pope 
Nicholas  III  there,  waiting  the  arrival  of  Boniface, 
who  again  is  to  be  succeeded  by  Clement. 

Even  Rome,  despite  her  martial  spirit  and  suprem- 
acy in  culture,  had  become  a  school  of  vice  and  in- 
iquity, and  had  abandoned  itself  to  a  saturnalia  of  wick- 
edness —  see  "  Pornocracy  " —  perhaps  unparalleled  in 
history.  Yet  evidences  of  a  pure  morality  might  have 
been  found  in  the  remote  past,  even  among  the  heathen, 
in  men  of  such  noble  natures  as  Tacitus,  Pliny  the 
Younger,  Papelius,  Fabianus,  and  others.  Then  there 
was  the  semi-divine  Seneca,  that  "  seeker  after  God," 
as  Canon  Farrar  calls  him.  When  Nero  ordered  him 
to  commit  suicide  his  heroic  and  virtuous  wife  insisted 
on  bleeding  herself  to  death  with  him  rather  than  sur- 
vive without  him.     And  there  were  other  women  of 


MOHAMMED  175 

like  soul,  such  as  the  *'  Chaste  Octavia,"  the  daughter 
of  Claudius,  who,  although  the  wife  of  Nero,  remained 
upright  in  the  midst  of  depravity,  and  who  was  slain 
in  her  twenty-second  year  "  without  having  known  a 
single  joy,"  and  in  the  fidelity  with  which  the  vestals 
observed  their  vows.  The  high  character,  too,  sus- 
tained by  such  women  as  the  mother  of  the  Gracchi 
shows  that,  despite  the  Grobian  deities,  in  all  lands, 
under  all  creeds,  and  subject  to  every  contaminating 
environment,  virtue  has  had  her  witnesses.  No  one 
race  nor  belief  has  a  monopoly  of  purity,  since  the 
earth  has  never  been,  as  Matthew  Arnold  has  said, 
without  at  least  "  a  remnant  making  for  righteous- 
ness." This  is  peculiar  to  no  particular  belief,  but  is 
a  characteristic  of  humanity. 

During  the  first  few  centuries  of  Christian  Rome  the 
struggle  of  early  believers  against  pagan  iniquities 
presents  an  imposing  history.  They  suffered  death 
and  w^orse,  as  the  catacombs  and  the  Coliseum  testify, 
rather  than  renounce  conviction  or  bow^  the  knee  to 
iniquity.  Everything  that  malice  could  invent  or  ma- 
lignancy put  into  execution  to  lure  them  from  purity 
was  practiced  in  vain. 

To  paraphrase  from  St.  Paul,  through  faith  and 
self-denial  they  subdued  kingdoms,  wrought  righteous- 
ness, obtained  promises,  stopped  the  mouths  of  lions, 
quenched  the  violence  of  fire,  escaped  the  edge  of  the 
sword,  out  of  weakness  were  made  strong,  waxed  val- 
iant in  fight,  turned  to  flight  armies  of  aliens.  Others 
were    tortured,    not   accepting   deliverance,    that   they 


176  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

might  receive  a  better  resurrection.  Others  had  trials 
of  cruel  mockery,  scourgings,  bonds,  imprisonment. 
They  were  stoned,  sawn  asunder,  tempted,  slain  with 
the  sword.  They  wandered  about  in  sheep  skins  and 
goat  skins,  being  destitute,  afflicted,  tormented,  of 
whom  the  world  was  not  worthy.  They  wandered  in 
deserts,  in  mountains,  in  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth, 
preferring  anything  to  disloyalty  to  their  Master. 

Note  the  distinction.  Instead  of  improving,  like 
wine,  with  age,  fourteen  centuries  afterward,  in  *'  the 
good  city  of  Ulm,"  as  in  other  Continental  cities,  the 
only  genuine  successors  of  the  saints  and  martyrs 
through  '*  the  sanctifying  bath  of  Christian  baptism  " 
licensed  houses  to  facilitate  the  evil  practices  that  their 
ancestors  condemned. 

In  this  same  city  of  Ulm  the  lessees  of  these  resorts 
"  agreed  to  provide  clean,  healthy  women  "  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  their  co-religionists,  "  and  never  less 
than  fourteen."  They  bound  themselves  to  a  fixed 
dietary  scale  for  the  '*  inmates."  "  The  daily  meals 
were  to  be  of  the  value  of  six-pence  and  on  Monday 
every  woman  was  to  have  two  dishes,  soup  with  meat 
and  vegetables  and  a  roast  or  boiled  joint,"  and  "  on 
fast  days  and  in  Lent  " —  careful  religious  souls  — 
''  they  were  to  have  the  same  number  of  dishes,  but 
eggs  or  fish  instead  of  meat."  This  attention  to  mint 
and  cumin,  while  disregarding  the  weightier  matter  of 
the  moral  law,  was  characteristic  of  the  age. 

A  woman  resided  in  every  house  to  make  money  ar- 
rangements between  the  guests  and  the  inmates,  as  in 


MOHAMMED  177 

pagan  Pompeii  centuries  previous.  Every  IMonday 
each  woman  had  to  contribute  one  penny  and  the 
hostess  two-pence,  "  and  for  what,  in  the  name  of  all 
the  gods  at  once  ?  "  ^'  To  purchase  tapers  for  the  vir- 
gin and  saints,  to  be  offered  in  the  cathedral  on  Sun- 
day nights !  " 

In  this  same  good  city  of  Ulm,  and  in  other  cities  of 
the  Continent  of  Europe,  ''  girls  and  women,  with 
their  own  consent  or  with  the  consent  of  their  parents 
or  husbands,  could  be  apprenticed  to  the  women  keep- 
ers, to  learn  the  business."  On  Sundays,  Lady's  day, 
and  during  Passion  Week,  the  houses  were  piously 
closed. 

This  surely  was  worse  than  anything  that  happened 
during  the  licentious  days  of  Charles  II  or  James  II 
in  England,  or  Louis  XV  in  France,  because  it  had  the 
sanction  and  protection  of  deliberate  law,  while  the 
other  had  only  to  do  with  individual  profligacy.  See 
Jager's  *'  Schwabischen  Stadtwesen  des  Mittelalters." 

In  Italy  licentiousness  was  more  likely  to  be  associ- 
ated with  crimes  of  blood.  ''  Murders  at  funerals  be- 
cause of  inheritances,"  "  lying  in  ambush  even  in  the 
churches  to  execute  vengeance  on  antagonists," 
"  lubricity  everywhere,  and  every  destructive  phase 
developed  into  an  art  and  practiced  without  shame," 
*'  blasphemy  the  most  frightful  with  impunity  were 
common  as  compared  with  Mohammedanism,  where 
blasphemy  was  a  capital  offense,"  ''  revenge  the  most 
atrocious."  These  are  the  phrases  of  eye-witnesses, 
and  are  said  to  be  "  weak  compared  with  the  facts." 


178  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

Lucretia  Borgia,  the  pope's  abandoned  but  brilliant 
daughter,  killed  her  brother,  with  whom  she  had  been 
living  in  incest.  Caesar  Borgia,  the  pope's  atrocious 
son,  at  the  capture  of  Capua  chose  forty  of  the  most 
beautiful  women,  whom  he  kept  for  himself.  The 
others  he  sold  in  Rome  at  accommodating  prices. 

In  1347,  when,  on  account  of  the  schism  of  the 
popes  the  removal  of  the  seat  of  papal  government 
from  Rome  to  Avignon  was  contemplated,  Machiavelli 
predicted,  ''If  the  papal  court  were  removed  to  Switz- 
erland, that  simplest  and  most  religious  people  would  in 
an  incredibly  short  time  become  utterly  depraved  by  the 
vicious  example  of  the  Italian  priesthood."  See 
Discorsi  I,  12.  William  Roscoe,  the  historian  of  "  Ital- 
ian Life  and  Letters,"  a  man  not  at  all  hypercritical  of 
morality,  says  that  even  in  writing  obscenity  the  Italian 
clergy  excel  all  people.  See  Appendix  to  "  Life  of  Leo 
X."  And  he  said  this  despite  the  fact  that  he  was  ac- 
quainted with  the  writings  of  Swift  and  Sterne,  two 
malodorous  clergymen  of  the  English  church,  and 
with  the  vile  dramatic  writers  of  the  Restoration. 

No  English  words,  it  has  been  said,  can  picture  the 
moral  monstrosities  calmly  narrated  in  the  pages  of 
Patronius  and  Martial.  Yet  Petrarch,  who  knew  these 
classic  writers  and  what  they  stood  for  in  the  life  of 
the  people,  declares  that  "  the  Rome  of  his  day  out- 
rivaled in  depravity  pagan  Rome  at  its  worst." 

In  fulfillment  of  the  prediction  of  Machiavelli  about 
what  would  happen  in  Avignon  in  case  it  should  be- 
come the  seat  of  the  papal  court,  in  1347  brothels  were 


MOHAMMED  179 

established  in  that  beautiful  city  contemporaneous  with 
that  event  by  the  "  Good  "  Queen  Jane,  and  certain  laws 
were  laid  down  for  their  management,  which,  some- 
what modified,  are  in  vogue  in  France  still.  For  ex- 
ample, "  the  women  in  these  establishments  were 
limited  in  their  walks,  and  were  obliged  to  wear  on 
their  shoulders  a  red  knot,  by  means  of  which  they 
could  be  readily  known."  We  may  imagine  what  the 
good  women  must  have  been  when  the  bad  ones  needed 
a  decoration  to  distinguish  them. 

Henry  Smith's  ''  Surgery,"  Vol.  I,  p.  297,  quoting, 
says : 

*'  Our  good  queen  doth  further  order  that  a  brothel 
shall  be  located  near  the  Convent  of  the  Augustine 
Friars,  and  that  no  youth  shall  be  admitted  therein 
without  permission  first  obtained  from  the  abbess  or 
governor,  who  is  to  keep  the  keys  and  counsel  and  ad- 
vise them  —  the  clients  —  not  to  make  a  noise,  nor  to 
frighten  the  wenches,  which  if  they  disobey,  they  shall 
be  laid  under  confinement  by  the  beadle." 

Still  another  regulation  showing  how  exclusively 
Christian  these  institutions  were,  declares  that  "  no 
Jew  shall  be  allowed  to  enter  the  brothel  under  any  pre- 
tense." So  careful  was  the  "  Good  Queen  Jane  "  of 
the  souls  of  the  inmates,  so  piously  anxious  was  she  to 
guard  them,  especially  against  Israelitish  and,  as  we 
shall  see  later  on,  venereal  contamination.  Other 
rules  declare  that  "  the  doors  shall  be  closed  on  Sun- 
days and  on  all  saints'  days,  and  that  once  a  week  the 
wenches  shall  be  examined  by  the  abbess  in  company 


i8o  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

with  a  barber  surgeon  appointed  by  the  directors,  and 
those  that  are  diseased  shall  be  separated  from  the  rest, 
lest  the  youth  shall  catch  the  distemper."  Could  any- 
thing be  more  tenderly  maternal  ? 

The  above  ordinances  seem  to  have  been  in  full 
force  in  Avignon  during  nearly  the  whole  period  of  oc- 
cupancy by  the  popes.  Yet,  according  to  Petrarch 
and  other  Italian  writers,  "  the  city  was  none  the  less 
the  home  of  debauchery  and  a  scandal  to  Christen- 
dom." 

To  understand  the  depravity  of  the  Christian  world 
until  and  for  some  time  after  the  Reformation,  with 
here  and  there  fine  types  of  piety  which  were  perhaps 
at  times  thought  a  trifle  extravagant  and  eccentric,  the 
reader  is  referred  J:o  the  articles  on  "  Knights  of  the 
Temple,"  ''  Crusaders,"  "  Knights  of  Malta,"  "  Flagel- 
lant," and  "  Pornocracy,"  in  any  impartial  book  of  ref- 
erence. 

So  depraved  were  the  people  previous  to  that  spirit- 
ual awakening  known  as  the  great  Reformation  that  it 
was  hardly  thought  possible  for  men  or  women  to 
live  virtuous  lives  except  in  a  convent  or  under  a  cowl. 
This  protection  was  supposed  to  be  a  stimulant  to  social 
morality,  hence  the  great  increase  in  the  number  of 
such  institutions,  which  subsequently  became  so  cor- 
rupt themselves  that  outraged  decency  demanded  their 
suppression.  Not  only  man's  depravity  but  woman's 
also,  even  under  the  surveillance  of  an  untrammeled 
church,  is  shown  in  contemporary  art  and  literature. 

"  Le  Romaunt  de  la  Rose,"  the  most  popular  book 


MOHAMMED  i8i 

of  the  thirteenth  century,  exhibits  women  as  always 
giving  way  to  the  vilest  lusts  under  the  slightest  temp- 
tation. That  was  the  popular  view  of  women  then, 
and  whether  true  or  not  —  we  do  not  believe  it  was  ever 
true  —  equally  reveals  the  corruption  of  the  then  mas- 
culine mind.  To  be  chivalrous  was  not  a  matter  of 
course  as  now.  Men  adopted  chivalry  as  a  profession, 
in  order  to  protect  women  from  insult  and  injustice 
and  pilgrims  from  robbers. 

In  this  same  book  all  men  were  shown  to  be  seducers 
and  in  every  way  pernicious.  The  matter  of  course 
continence  of  the  "  just  a  gentleman  "  to-day  was  pro- 
claimed as  something  supernatural  then,  entitling  a  man 
to  distinction.  So  lax  was  marital  morality  that  many 
of  the  most  distinguished  people  were  born  outside  of 
wedlock,  and  being  the  father  of  "  natural  "  children 
did  not  ostracise  a  man  from  the  best  society,  but 
added  rather  to  his  popularity.  Immorality  that  would 
now  cause  international  scandal  was  a  matter  of  com- 
mon occurrence,  regarded  with  placid  indifference  and 
complacency,  except  when  it  interfered  with  in- 
heritances. The  popularity  of  Rabelais,  with  his  filth 
and  loathsomeness,  the  favorite  reading  matter,  even 
of  high  churchmen,  gives  an  idea  of  the  gross  manners 
of  the  day  —  see  the  introduction  to  any  standard 
edition  of  Rabelais  —  and  the  *'  Decameron,"  the 
"  Memoirs  of  Benvenuto  Cellini,"  and  many  other 
publications  reflecting  the  spirit  of  the  age,  including 
"  La  Morte  d' Arthur,"  reveals  a  state  of  private  and 
public  impudicity  that  is  appalling. 


i82  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

Spain,  Portugal,  and  France  each  require  chapters 
to  do  them  justice  in  this  particular. 

As  in  Rome  so  in  Spain  the  purest  people  were  the 
Mohammedan  conquerors.  According  to  the  Code  of 
Alphonso  IX  in  the  twelfth  century,  so  prevalent  was 
the  social  evil  that  laws  were  put  into  force  not  to 
abolish,  but  to  protect  it  and  make  it  yield  a  handsome 
revenue. 

The  various  sorts  of  violators  of  the  moral  law 
were  officially  classified  as  "  men  who  traffic  in  de- 
bauchery," "  brothel  keepers,"  "  husbands  conniving  at 
the  dishonor  of  their  wives,"  "  ruffiani/'  that  is,  men 
who  were  supported  by  abandoned  women,  and  the 
like.  And  to  show  how  religiously  conducted  were 
these  protected  resorts  —  for  the  Spaniard  is  nothing 
if  not  "religious" — placards  hung  in  various  places 
in  the  houses  accommodatingly  announcing  that  they 
would  be  "  closed  on  Sundays,  on  holidays  during 
Lent,  ember  week,  and  all  fast  days,  under  punishment 
of  one  hundred  stripes  to  each  woman  who  received 
visitors."  Men,  it  would  seem,  went  scot  free.  They 
made  the  laws. 

The  condition  that  horrified  our  people  a  few  years 
ago  in  Bernard  Shaw's  "  Mrs.  Warren's  Profession  " 
was  but  a  feeble  survival,  or  revival,  of  what  was  uni- 
versally rampant  in  the  good  old  days  and  regarded 
as  a  part  of  vigorous  life,  where  restraint  was  con- 
sidered weakness  and  indulgence  strength.  It  was  a 
state  of  traffic  common  to  princes,  royalty,  and  even  at 
times  the  church,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the  ages  of  faith. 


MOHAMMED  183 

To  select  but  one  example  from  the  loathsome  annals 
of  the  times,  the  profits  and  emoluments  of  the  brothels 
of  Seville,  the  city  proudly  boasting  the  largest  and 
most  opulently  ornate  cathedrals  of  the  world,  "  were 
assigned  to  Alonzo  Ajardo,  master  of  the  table  of  the 
most  orthodox  king."  Thus  the  supreme  ruler  of  a 
Christian  nation  and  his  honored  guests,  without  pro- 
test or  slander,  luxuriously  fed  from  the  proceeds  of 
licensed  debauchery. 

We  might  continue  citations  from  the  social  life  of 
the  past,  showing  that  other  civilizations  were  at  least 
as  lax  as,  if  not  worse  than,  slander  declared  Moham- 
medanism to  be,  in  order  to  defend  Mohammed  from 
the  charge  of  being  a  demoralizing  epileptic,  who  first 
deluded  and  then  allured  followers  by  promises  of  for- 
bidden pleasures.  But  this  to-day  is  hardly  necessary. 
Since  we  cannot  condemn  the  religion  of  Christ  be- 
cause of  the  immorality  of  some  of  its  professors,  nor 
because  of  its  failure  to  reform  the  multitude  even 
under  the  leadership  of  noble  spirits,  neither  can  we 
condemn  Mohammed,  the  magnanimous,  for  what  was 
done  by  some  of  his  successors  nor  by  what  we  read 
into  Islamism. 

The  polygamy  permitted  by  Mussulman  faith  was 
also  permitted  by  Judaism.  Monogamy  with  the  Jews 
is  but  a  matter  of  expediency,  a  merely  economic  evolu- 
tion. Polygamy,  uncondemned  by  the  Old  Testament, 
was  rather  due  to  the  exigencies  of  the  times  than  to 
either  sensuality  or  epilepsy  on  the  part  of  its  founder. 
And  the  absence  of  progress  in  the  life  of  Islam,  in- 


i84  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

stead  of  being  due,  as  has  been  said,  to  license  in  matri- 
mony, is  due  rather  to  other  causes. 

It  has  been  said  that  "  Islam  is  merely  a  religion  of 
obscurantism,  bringing  in  its  train  the  stagnation  of 
nations,  and  hampering  them  in  that  march  to  the  un- 
known which  we  call  progress."  But  such  an  attitude 
shows  not  only  an  absolute  ignorance  of  the  teachings 
of  the  Prophet,  but  a  blind  forgetfulness  of  the  evi- 
dence of  history.  The  Islam  of  the  earlier  centuries 
evolved  and  progressed  wath  the  nations,  and  the 
stimulus  it  gave  to  men  in  the  reign  of  the  ancient 
Caliphs  is  beyond  question.  To  impute  to  it  the  pres- 
ent decadence  of  the  Moslem  world  is  altogether  too 
puerile.  The  truth  is  that  nations  have  their  day,  and 
to  a  period  of  glorious  splendor  succeeds  a  time  of 
lassitude  and  slumber.  It  is  a  law  of  nature.  And 
then  some  day  some  danger  threatens  them,  stirs  them 
from  their  torpor,  and  they  awake.  See  Pierre  Loti's 
"  Egypt  a  Centre."  Or  again,  may  it  not  be  that  the 
absence  of  progress  in  material  things  among  the  fol- 
lowers of  the  Prophet  is  due  rather  to  the  fact  that 
the  flower  of  her  young  men,  nearly  ten  thousand  an- 
nually gathered  from  all  her  dominions,  devote  the  best 
years  of  their  lives  to  the  almost  exclusive  study  of  a 
mostly  impossible  book, —  the  Koran.  Of  course  they 
make  a  shy  at  modern  science,  thus  confining  their 
minds  within  a  circle,  and  they  end  in  fatalism,  pas- 
sivity, and  profound  faith,  so  that  as  missionaries  they 
may  subsequently  carry  peace  and  immobility  to  more 
than  three  hundred  million  of  men.     It  is  because  of 


MOHAMMED  185 

this  absorption  in  an  alluring  book,  surrounded  as  it 
is  with  centuries  of  sacred  traditions,  and  not  because 
of  that  impracticable  thing  polygamy  that  Moham- 
medanism is  eliminating  from  its  life  anyhow,  that 
"  Islam  keeps  its  cohesion/*  Through  this,  too,  it 
loses  material  power. 

In  visiting  the  El-Azhar  in  Cairo  lately,  a  Muslim 
university  that  was  old  when  other  seats  of  learning 
such  as  Oxford  were  in  their  infancy,  we  were  pro- 
foundly impressed  with  the  multitudes  of  serious  men 
in  turbans,  the  prince  in  common  with  the  son  of  the 
laborer,  seated  in  innumerable  groups  literally  at  the 
feet  of  self -obliterating  teachers,  studying  a  volume 
having  chiefly  to  do  with  worship,  almsgiving,  self- 
abnegation,  prayer,  the  nature  and  the  essence  of 
"  Allah  the  all  compassionate,"  in  their  eyes  the  mystic 
light  of  other  days,  all  preoccupied  with  the  self -same 
dream.  "  It  is  not  difficult  to  understand  how  the 
spectacle  of  our  troubles,  our  despairs,  our  miseries, 
in  these  new  ways  in  which  our  lot  is  cast,  should  make 
them  reflect  and  turn  again  to  the  tranquil  dreams  of 
their  ancestors  "  and  the  mysteries  of  their  unchangea- 
ble faith,  the  same  to-day  as  it  was  when  Bagdad  was 
the  Athens  of  the  new  creed. 


LORD  BYRON 


TO 

THE    MEMORY    OF 

EDMUND  CLARENCE  STEDMAN 

Sympathetic  as  a  critic,  generous 
as  a  friend 


LORD  BY  RON 

This  also  shows  the  Fades  EpUct>ticus  (the  Epileptic 
face)  that  cannot  always  be  described  but  is  so  evident 
to  the   expert. 


Facing  p.    190. 


LORD  BYRON 

CHAPTER  XXII 

Unlike  C^sar  and  Mohammed,  Byron's  epilepsy 
was  at  first  psychic,  perhaps  only  emotional,  petit,  but 
in  time  it  developed  into  grand  mal,  responding  by  con- 
vulsions,—  clonic  and  tonic  spasms, —  to  certain  sen- 
sations or  impressions.  Such,  it  would  seem,  was  the 
attack  he  had  upon  seeing  the  tragedian  Edmund  Keene 
act  the  character  of  Sir  Giles  Overreach  in  Massinger's 
"  A  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts." 

It  was  a  first  night  after  prolonged  preparation. 
The  house  was  filled  with  the  elite  of  London.  Every 
branch  of  polite  and  elegant  society  was  present ;  litera- 
ture, art,  and  fashion  occupied  the  boxes,  and  crowded 
the  chief  seats.  Preliminary  announcements  had  filled 
the  public  mind  with  great  expectations.  The  time  at 
last  came,  the  orchestra  subsided  into  silence,  the  cur- 
tain rose,  the  drama  began.  So  intense  was  the  sus- 
pense of  the  audience  during  its  progress,  so  dreadful 
was  the  realism  of  the  actor  in  his  characterization  of 
the  irascible  and  turbulent  Sir  Giles,  that  many  of  his 
auditors  were  violently  affected  by  it.  The  Duke  of 
Wellington  fainted.  Leigh  Hunt,  "  an  old  stager," 
who  was  there  in  the  capacity  of  dramatic  critic,  was 
completely  overcome.     Many  prominent  persons  went 

191 


192  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

into  hysterics,  and  Lord  Byron  "  had  an  attack  of  his 
epilepsy  "  and  was  carried  out  of  the  house  in  spasms. 
That  the  "  noble  lord  "  was  not  born  with  a  silver 
spoon,  or  rather  with  a  "  rosebud  in  his  mouth,  and  a 
nightingale  singing  in  his  ear,"  as  Rogers  said  of  a 
brother  bard,  is  very  evident,  for  he  differed  from 
Caesar  and  Mohammed  inasmuch  as  he  came  of  neu- 
rotic stock.  His  mother  had  "  nerves  "  and  a  shrill 
voice,  an  unpardonable  thing  in  woman,  and  she  did 
not  belong  to  "  The  Society  for  the  Prevention  of 
Cruelty  to  Children."  When  irritated  by  the  pranks 
of  her  erratic  offspring,  her  favorite  weapon  was  a 
poker.  When  she  could  not  strike  her  darling  with 
it  while  holding  it  in  her  hand,  she  made  it  fly  after 
him  like  a  hawk  after  a  swallow.  She  "  was  subject, 
too,  to  hurricane  bursts  of  temper,"  and  she  frequently 
taunted  her  son  with  his  lameness.  She  believed  in 
fortune-telling,  palmistry,  and  presentiments,  was  sub- 
ject to  violent  attacks  of  frenzy,  and  was  so  easily  af- 
fected because  of  an  otherwise  irritable  nervous  system 
that  she  also  while  a  girl,  on  seeing  in  Edinburgh  Mrs. 
Siddons  in  the  character  of  Isabella,  was  so  impressed 
that  she  went  into  convulsions  and  came  near  causing 
a  panic  in  the  house.  She  was  the  sort  of  woman  that 
might  have  been  benefited  by  Christian  Science  or  any 
of  the  "  Faith  Cures,"  since  she  did  not  seem  always 
to  have  control  of  herself  and  believed  too  implicitly 
in  the  omnipotence  of  drugs. 

Of  Byron's  daughter  Ada,  who  afterward  became 
the  Duchess  of  Lovelace  and  a  most  charming  and 


BYRON  193 

estimable  woman,  in  one  of  his  "  Conversations  with 
Captain  Medwyn,"  he  said  that  "  her  childhood  alter- 
nated between  irritability  and  spasm."  So  that  we 
have  here  what  we  might  venture  to  call  hereditary 
epilepsy,  with  the  disease  appearing  in  three  genera- 
tions. 

Byron,  too,  was  emotional  at  times  to  the  point  of 
insanity.  He  was  melancholic,  his  life  alternating  be- 
tween the  extremes  of  joy  and  sadness ;  given  to  refine- 
ments of  love  and  hate;  a  man  of  morbid  acuteness 
of  feeling,  going  to  extremes  in  everything,  suscepti- 
ble, easily  excited,  the  victim  of  unreasonable  preju- 
dice, devoted  to  friends  constantly,  disliking  enemies 
only  spasmodically,  and  even  then  doing  them  anony- 
mous beneficences.  On  one  occasion,  during  mutual 
outbursts  of  temper,  he  and  his  mother  had  gone  to 
the  neighboring  apothecary,  each  to  request  him  not 
to  sell  poison  to  the  other.  He  was  so  sensitive  that  the 
sight  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  handwriting  put  him  in 
high  spirit  for  the  day.  Shelley's  disapprobation  of 
one  of  his  great  poems  caused  him  to  throw  it  into  the 
fire,  to  the  horror  of  his  friend.  He  had  another 
copy,  though,  in  reserve,  which,  to  the  surprise  of 
his  unsophisticated  admirer,  he  published  a  few  months 
afterward. 

Such  harlequinadeiy  at  times  suited  his  temper.  One 
of  his  fancies  was  that  it  was  difficult  to  love  a  woman 
after  you  had  seen  her  eat.  He  objected  to  Chau- 
cer's poetry  because  ''  it  was  immoral,"  thought  Field- 
ing's "  Tom  Jones  "  the  greatest  novel  ever  written, 


194  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

and  considered  the  poetry  of  the  Koran  greater  than 
that  of  any  European  poet.  He  was  the  original  dis- 
coverer, or  inventor,  of  "  Christian  Science,"  although 
never  before  getting  credit  for  it.  "  I  once  thought 
myself  a  philosopher,"  he  said  to  Medwyn,  ''  talked 
nonsense  with  great  decorum  about  the  non-existence 
of  pain,  considered  all  sickness  a  matter  of  imagina- 
tion.    A  fall  from  a  horse  cured  me." 

He  took  strange  pride  in  his  errors,  paraded  them 
forth  in  the  most  conspicuous  light,  and,  as  Moore 
said,  "  He  could  make  one  single  indiscretion  go  far- 
ther than  a  thousand  would  in  others."  As  Matthew 
Arnold  asserted  of  Goethe,  "  He  neither  made  man  too 
much  a  God  nor  God  to  much  a  man."  Yet  he  thought 
enough  of  women  to  fall  in  love  with  many  of  them. 

Like  Csesar  he  had  mahogany  hair  except  that  he 
had  more  of  it,  and  it  curled  —  this  is  important,  as 
having  to  do  with  some  of  his  compromises.  Locks 
of  it  being  found  in  the  card-cases  of  fashionable 
women  in  the  estimation  of  the  wicked  world  "  discov- 
ered "  him.  He  w^as  mortally  afraid  of  disease,  but, 
unlike  the  present  people  of  America,  he  wanted  to  get 
consumption,  because,  as  he  remarked,  "  It  lasted  so 
long,  and  women  would  then  say,  '  Poor  Byron,  how 
pale  and  interesting  he  looks  in  dying.'  " 

He  had  no  admiration  for  antiquities  nor  art,  nor 
beautiful  things  generally,  except  as  matters  of  display 
or  to  emphasize  his  own  importance.  But  he  de- 
scribed scenery  magnificently,  without  apparently  ob- 
serving it,     This  was  perhaps  the  unconsciousness  of 


BYRON  195 

genius;  unlike  Matthew  Arnold,  who  everlastingly  ad- 
mired scenery,  but  never  described  it. 

Lady  Blessington  observed  Byron  with  sympathetic 
accuracy.  Her  "  Conversations  with  Lord  Byron " 
are  slanderously  said  to  be  on  a  par  with  Landor's 
"  Imaginary  Conversations  " ;  nevertheless  they  are 
trustworthy  enough  to  quote.  They  are  so  interest- 
ing and  well  expressed  that  if  not  true  they  ought 
to  be ;  besides,  they  reveal  a  charming  pensonality  in 
the  lady  herself.  The  reader  will  find  an  interesting 
description  of  an  evening  with  Lady  Blessington  in 
N.  P.  Willis's  too  much  neglected  "  Pencilings  by  the 
Way." 

In  her  ^'  Conversations  "  the  countess  asserts  that 
the  elegancies  and  comforts  of  refined  life  appear  to 
have  been  as  little  understood  by  Byron  as  they  were 
valued  by  him.  He  was  ignorant,  so  said  she,  of  what 
constituted  elegancy  and  refinement.  A  bad  and  vul- 
gar taste  predominated  in  all  his  equipments,  whether 
of  dress  or  furniture.  He  lacked,  according  to  this 
same  authority,  delicacy  of  mind,  and  had,  in  spite  of 
his  proclamations  of  democracy,  the  most  decided 
taste  for  aristocracy  of  any  person  she  ever  knew. 
But  his  "  natural  flippancy  "  of  character  took  off  all 
appearance  of  premeditation,  or  bitterness  from  his  re- 
marks, even  when  they  were  most  acrimonious.  He 
had  very  bad  taste  in  dress,  and  his  appearance  on 
horseback,  which  he  affected  because  of  his  lameness, 
as  Montaigne  did  because  of  his  diminutive  height, 
was   not   prepossessing.     The   horses   which   he    rode 


196  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

were  usually  "  covered  with  fantastic  trappings  in  the 
way  of  cavezons,  martingales,  and  heaven  knows  what 
else,"  she  writes,  "  his  saddles  barbarically  embroid- 
ered, and  he  was  usually  embarrassed  while  on  horse- 
back with  large  holsters  in  which  he  always  carried 
loaded  pistols,  and  which  gave  him  a  formidable  ap- 
pearance." 

''  His  dress  when  in  Italy,''  she  tells  us  with  femi- 
nine particularity,  "  was  a  nankeen  jacket  and  trousers, 
shrunken  from  washing,  the  jacket  embroidered  in  the 
same  color  as  the  fabric  and  ornamented  with  three 
rows  of  useless  buttons  down  the  front;  a  dark  blue 
velvet  cap  with  a  shade  and  a  gold  band  and  a  large 
gold  tassel  at  the  crown,  a  black  stock,  nankeen  gaiters, 
and  a  pair  of  blue  spectacles  completed  his  costume. 
Sometimes  this  was  ostentatiously  changed  for  Scotch 
plaid.  He  was  fond  of  the  bizarre,  not  only  in  dress 
but  in  morals,  religion,  everything.  On  his  first  ex- 
pedition to  Greece  he  wore  the  tartan  of  the  Gordon 
clan  rather  than  the  dress  of  an  English  gentleman." 
"  He  did  not  ride  well,"  says  this  same  Boswell,  "  and 
was  also  an  exceedingly  timid  horseman." 

What  barbarity  of  taste  and  lack  of  skill  in  horse- 
manship as  contrasted  with  that  of  his  colleagues  in 
similarity  of  malady,  Caesar  and  Mohammed,  although 
Mohammed's  favorite  charger  was  a  white  mule,  just 
as  the  poet  Schiller's  was  an  ass.  Yet,  unlike  Caesar, 
there  was  nothing  effeminate  about  Byron  but  his 
voice. 

He  was  more  proud  of  his  rank  than  Congreve  was 


BYRON  197 

of  his  reputation  as  a  man  of  fashion,  not  "  the  pride 
of  the  ancient  aristocrat,  though,  but  rather  the  osten- 
tatious pride  or  conscious  vanity  of  the  plebeian  re- 
cently ennobled."  "  I  never  met  anyone  with  such  a 
decided  taste  for  the  aristocracy  as  Lord  Byron,"  says 
this  same  historian,  ''  and  this  is  shown  in  a  thousand 
ways.  He  was  also  incapable  of  keeping  a  secret  in- 
volving either  his  own  or  any  other  person's  honor; 
yet  his  indiscretion  and  incontinence  of  speech  were 
not  due  to  malice,  it  would  seem,  but  to  lack  of  that 
inborn  refinement,  indicating  nature's  gentleman,  that 
certain  persons  possess  as  a  divine  endowment,  inde- 
pendent of  birth  or  training."  At  another  time  that 
same  lady  observer  writes  of  him,  ''  His  whole  appear- 
ance is  remarkably  gentlemanlike,  and  he  owed  nothing 
of  this  to  his  toilet,  as  his  coat  appeared  to  have  been 
many  years  made  and  much  too  large,  and  all  his  gar- 
ments convey  the  idea  of  having  been  purchased  ready- 
made,  so  ill  do  they  fit  him. 

"  There  is  a  gaucherle  in  his  movements  which  evi- 
dently proceeds  from  the  perpetual  consciousness  of 
his  lameness  that  appears  to  haunt  him,  for  he  tries  to 
conceal  his  foot  when  seated  and  when  walking  has 
a  nervous  rapidity  in  his  manner.  He  is  very  slightly 
lame,  and  the  deformity  of  his  foot  is  so  little  re- 
markable that  I  am  not  aware  which  foot  it  is.  Were 
I  to  point  out  the  prominent  defect  of  Lord  Byron  I 
should  say  it  was  flippancy,  and  a  total  want  of  that 
natural  self-possession  and  dignity  which  ought  to 
characterize  a  man  of  birth  and  education." 


198  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

I  am  particular  about  giving  these  details  as 
observed  by  his  most  intimate  acquaintances,  just  to 
show  that  notwithstanding  his  epilepsy  his  eccentrici- 
ties and  peculiarities  were  not  necessarily  due  to  that 
malady. 

Of  Roman  and  Greek  art  —  excavating  in  Greece 
and  Rome  were  in  vogue  in  his  day  and  the  '*  Elgin 
]\Iarbles  "  had  created  a  furore  of  artistic  attention  by 
this  time  —  he  said  he  thought  too  little  of  specimens 
of  either  even  to  steal  them,  let  alone  to  buy  or  dig  for 
them.  In  prospect  of  his  return  from  Greece,  while  he 
bought  marble  busts  for  his  friend  Hobhouse,  two  or 
three  skulls  dug  out  of  sarcophagi  and  a  phial  of  Attic 
hemlock  were  all  he  thought  worth  bringing  to  Eng- 
land for  himself.  He  had  a  penchant  for  skulls.  The 
reader  may  remember  his  using  one  as  a  drinking  vessel 
as  a  matter  of  braggadocio  when  he  was  a  student  at 
Oxford.  Four  of  these  gruesome  ornaments  decorated 
his  apartment  and  his  friend  Dallas,  as  a  matter  of 
wonder,  says  that  "  their  presence  did  not  impress  him 
morbidly.'' 

Anything  proceeding  from  friendship  affected  him 
to  tears.  When  writing,  he  neither  knew  nor  cared 
what  was  coming  next.  This  seems  incredible  when 
you  think  of  the  wonderful  beauty  of  his  diction  and 
versification  and  the  polish  of  his  "  spontaneous  "  wit, 
as  bright  as  if  the  result  of  deliberation.  He  wrote  a 
fair  round  hand  with  great  rapidity,  and  but  seldom 
corrected  a  phrase.  In  writing  he  never  recast  any- 
thing.    He  said  of  his  manner  of  composition,  "  I  am 


BYRON  199 

like  the  tiger;  if  I  miss  the  first  spring,  I  go  grumbling 
back  to  my  jungle."  He  was  something  like  ^loham- 
med  in  this,  while  we  imagine  Csesar's  terseness  of 
luminous  phraseology  must  have  been  the  result  of 
many  erasures  and  infinite  pains.  Byron  could  stop  in 
the  midst  of  a  composition  to  play  billiards  or  engage 
in  lengthy  conversation  and  begin  again  where  he  left 
off,  without  hesitating  or  losing  a  word. 

The  memory  of  heroic  deeds  caused  his  face  to  flush, 
his  eyes  to  glow,  and  exhibition  of  self-sacrifice  in- 
spired him  with  sublime  emotions. 

He  was  so  humane  that  when  in  Italy  he  would 
hardly  hurt  the  flea  he  found  feeding  upon  him.  Like 
Sterne's  opening  the  door  of  the  cage  of  the  starling 
that  "  wanted  to  get  out,"  he  w'ould  open  the  door  of 
his  room  to  let  the  fly  escape  that  had  tormented  him ; 
yet  from  childhood,  and  like  Mohammed  when  a  man, 
firearms,  swords,  dirks,  and  stilettoes  were  his  delight. 
Pointing  a  stiletto  threateningly  once  at  a  shrinking 
friend,  he  said :  "  How  I  would  like  to  know  the  sensa- 
tion of  having  committed  a  murder!  "  Yet  he  w'as  so 
personally  kind  to  people  and  foolishly  fond  of  ani- 
mals that  when  in  Italy  he  traveled  from  place  to  place 
with  an  ever  increasing  menagerie  of  the  latter,  among 
which  w^ere  monkeys,  pollywogs,  bull-dogs,  caterpillars, 
poodles  like  miniature  muffs,  cats,  peacocks,  hens, — 
not  to  eat, —  parrots,  horses,  ponies,  and  other  house- 
hold gods,  including  doctors,  whom  he  euphemistically 
paraphrased  "  medical  companions,"  and  whom  he 
found,  he  said,  "  as  obsequious  as  spaniels."     He  did 


200  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

not  like  doctors,  as  a  rule,  and  only  believed  in  them 
as  superstitious  persons  believe  in  ghosts,  with  fear 
and  trembling.  In  consequence  of  his  sympathy  with 
the  lower  creation  and  spasmodic  vegetarianism,  al- 
though he  was  fond  of  fish  and  thought  his  partaking 
of  fish  as  a  food  the  reason  of  his  being  a  good 
swimmer,  he  called  angling  "  that  solitary  vice,"  and 
Ik  Walton,  its  high  priest,  "  a  sentimental  savage,  who 
tenderly  teaches  his  disciples  how  to  sew  up  living 
frogs  and  break  their  legs,  by  way  of  experiment,  and 
to  run  barbed  hooks  through  the  bodies  of  worms,  as 
if  he  loved  them."  A  couplet  in  allusion  to  Walton  in 
*'  Don  Juan  "  reads : 

"  The  quaint  old  cruel  coxcomb  in  his  gullet 
Should  have  a  hook,  and  a  small  trout  to  pull  it." 

He  concludes  a  denunciation  of  fishing  by  declaring, 
with  his  usual  extravagance  of  emphasis,  that  ''  no 
good  man  could  be  an  angler." 

He  affected,  however,  the  more  ferocious  animals, 
such  as  lions,  tigers,  hyenas;  and  when  in  Oxford  en- 
sconced in  his  sumptuously  furnished  quarters  a  bear, 
which  followed  him  in  his  lonely  walks  by  day,  and 
slept  at  the  foot  of  his  bed  by  night.  While  in  Italy 
peacocks  paraded  through  his  parterres  and  trailed 
their  Juno  tails  over  his  marble  floors,  and  tame  tur- 
keys roosted  on  the  carved  backs  of  artistic  settees  and 
sofas,  and  chickens  slept  on  the  canopy  of  his  bed  and 
picked  the  flowers  and  fruit  from  his  Gobelin  tapestries. 


BYRON  201 

When  Tom  Moore  visited  him  in  his  palace  in 
Venice,  as  they  entered  the  dark  circuitous  corridor  in 
the  clouds  of  the  night,  he  was  soothed  by  such  warn- 
ings, given  dramatically,  as  "  Look  out  for  the  bull- 
dog! "  "  Be  careful,  or  the  monkey  will  fly  on  you!  " 
"  Don't  lift  your  feet  too  high  or  you  may  tread  on  the 
cobra !  "  "  Now  mind  the  vampire !  "  until  you  would 
think  his  heart  would  have  turned  to  stone,  and  his 
blood  to  mortar. 

Yet  so  tender  was  Byron  of  his  pets  that  on  the 
slightest  noise  from  them  he  left  everything  in  order  to 
see  what  was  the  matter.  Like  Launce  with  his  dog 
"  Crab,"  he  was  always  taking  their  part  and  blaming 
himself  for  their  faults.  Another  resemblance  this  to 
the  Prophet  of  Arabia,  except  that  Mohammed  de- 
clined luxuriating  thus  in  the  lap  of  exuberance,  prefer- 
ring rather  to  live  within  the  limitations  of  patriarchal 
simplicity. 

So  perfect  a  shot  with  a  pistol  was  Byron  that  he 
could  take  the  head  off  a  chicken  drinking  at  the  trough 
or  picking  up  food  in  the  poultry  yard  when  he  wished 
to  have  fowl  served  for  the  dinner  of  a  friend.  Once 
he  stuck  a  slender  cane  in  the  earth  and  split  it  in  two 
with  a  bullet,  at  a  distance  of  twenty  paces. 

"Well  but  weakly,"  he  once  wrote  of  himself;  yet 
he  was  large,  fat,  awkward,  flabby,  weighed  over  two 
hundred  and  forty  pounds,  although  he  was  only  five 
feet  nine  inches  high.  When  he  came  to  London 
he  reduced  himself  to  one  hundred  and  sixty  pounds, 
and  looked  like  an  Adonis.     He  kept  himself  so  ever 


202  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

after  by  excessive  exercise  and  fasting.  For  long 
stretches  at  a  time  he  took  no  food  but  a  little  rice, 
twice  daily,  and  drank  nothing  but  vinegar  and  water. 
Yet  he  supplied  the  most  sumptuous  suppers  for  his 
friends.  His  chief  amusements  were  boxing  and 
swimming.  In  the  latter,  despite  his  lameness,  he  be- 
came an  expert.  In  rivalry  of  Leander,  as  every  one 
knows,  because  he  told  everybody,  he  swam  across  the 
Hellespont.  This  was  such  an  important  event  in  his 
life  that  in  his  letters  from  Italy  to  his  mother  he  men- 
tions it  seven  times.  He  also  swam  from  Lida  to 
Venice,  up  the  grand  canal  to  his  palace  steps,  leaving 
all  competitors  behind  him,  being  four  hours  and  a  half 
in  the  water  without  resting.  And- he  did  what  was 
still  a  greater  feat, — ■  swam  across  the  Rhone  at  a  place 
where,  on  account  of  the  width  and  the  rapidity  of  the 
river,  it  was  considered  an  impossible  thing  to  do.  This 
was  almost  as  great  a  feat  as  Caesar's  spanning  the 
Rhine  with  a  bridge.  On  his  way  from  Genoa  to 
Cephalonia,  preliminary  to  devoting  himself  and  his 
fortune  to  Greek  liberty,  after  getting  out  of  sight  of 
land  at  noon  daily  he  jumped  from  the  side  of  the  boat 
into  the  sea  for  a  long  swim.  He  was  so  addicted  to 
swimming  while  a  sojourner  in  Venice  that  the  nick- 
name-loving Venetians  called  him  variously,  "  The 
English  Fish,"  "The  Water  Spaniel,"  "The  Sea- 
Devil,"  "  The  Dolphin."  "  He  is  a  good  gondolier 
spoiled  by  being  a  poet,"  said  a  witty  boatman. 
"Where  does  he  get  his  poetry?"  was  asked  by 
another.     "  He  dives  for  it,"  was  the  reply. 


BYRON  203 

He  wrote  plays,  but  hated  the  theater,  notwithstand- 
ing the  fact,  or  perhaps  because  of  the  fact,  that  he  had 
been  a  manager  of  Drury  Lane. 

Of  his  deformity,  it  was  more  hke  Talipes  varus 
with  extreme  equiniis  than  a  dislocation,  as  has  been 
said;  for  the  great  John  Hunter,  the  man  who  knew 
more  about  tendons  and  joints  than  any  man  then  liv- 
ing, was  consulted  about  it  and  recommended  for  its 
correction  *'  m.achinery," — that  is  to  say,  braces.  If  it 
had  been  a  dislocation  —  cutting  the  tendons  was  not 
then  known  —  such  an  anatomist  would  likely  have  re- 
duced it,  and  that  would  have  been  an  end  of  it,  and  his 
career  might  have  been  diverted  into  a  less  picturesque 
channel,  the  ship  of  his  existence  might  have  sailed  in 
a  calmer  sea. 

When  a  child  at  Aberdeen  and  during  his  whole  life 
he  was  sensitive  about  this  deformity.  When  a  boy, 
on  hearing  an  allusion  to  it  made  by  someone  on  the 
street,  his  eyes  flashed,  he  struck  the  speaker  with  a 
whip  he  held  in  his  hand,  and  said,  "  Dinna  speak  o' 
that."  Later,  when  he  got  acquainted  with  a  little 
boy  similarly  affected,  he  was  heard  to  say  to  someone, 
*'  Come  and  see  the  twa  wee  laddies  wi'  twa  club  feet 
running  down  Broad  street."  His  temper  was  irasci- 
ble, but  placable  also. 

"  He  was  generous  to  a  fault  and  nobly  indiscreet," 
said  an  intimate  acquaintance,  and  before  arriving  at 
manhood  he  had  contracted  debts  amounting  to  one 
hundred  thousand  dollars.  This  money  was  borrowed 
chiefly  at  a  high  rate  of  interest  and  for  the  accommo- 


204  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

dation  of  impecunious  friends,  of  whom  he  had  always 
a  great  number.  He  was  Hke  Caesar  in  this.  He  sup- 
ported destitute  writers,  helped  the  weak,  sympathized 
with  the  distressed,  made  numerous  enemies  by  the 
confession  of  infamies  of  w^iich  he  was  not  guilty,  and 
most  people  knew  that  he  did  not  need  to  exaggerate 
in  that  direction.  There  was  evidently  nothing  of 
what  Goldsmith  has  called  "  the  tranquillity  of  dispas- 
sionate prudence  "  about  him,  for  the  large  sums  of 
money  that  as  a  poet  he  dipped  from  an  ink-bottle  he 
generously  distributed  among  his  needy  friends.  On 
one  occasion  he  gave  a  young  clergyman  a  thousand 
pounds  as  a  means  of  deliverance  from  debts  he  had 
inherited  rather  than  contracted.  While  living  with 
the  Guiccioli  in  Venice  his  income  was  four  thousand 
pounds  a  year,  one  thousand  of  which  he  gave  away  to 
charity.  He  certainly  was  a  strange  combination  of 
good  and  bad  elements.  Not  only  was  he  generous 
thus  with  gifts  of  money,  but  he  took  the  temporarily 
embarrassed  into  his  home.  Leigh  Hunt,  with  his 
family,  a  wife  and  six  not  very  ruly  children,  he  en- 
sconced in  his  palace  in  Italy,  furnished  them  with  a 
suite  of  rooms,  and  supplied  them  with  provisions  to 
live  in  comfort. 

One  morning  he  said  to  Tom  Moore's  little  son, 
"  Here  is  two  thousand  pounds,"  handing  him  his 
"  Memoirs,"  worth  three  times  that  amount,  for 
Byron's  productions  brought  enormous  prices :  for  ex- 
ample, "  Don  Juan "  brought  a  thousand  pounds  a 
canto,  and  so  immediate  and  extraordinary  was  his 


BYRON  205 

popularity, —  we  might  say  like  a  bird  singing  its  im- 
mortal song  on  a  tomb,  short  but  never  ending, —  that 
sometimes  large  editions  would  be  sold  out  in  a  day. 

Commenting  on  "  Childe  Harold,"  in  a  letter  to 
Lockhart,  Sir  Walter  Scott  said,  ''  Vice  ought  to  be  a 
little  more  modest."  Yet  it  ran  through  seven  editions 
in  four  weeks.  Fourteen  thousand  copies  of  "  The 
Corsair  "  were  sold  in  one  day.  Yet  he  wrote  it  in  ten 
days.  As  an  additional  illustration  of  his  rapidity  of 
composition,  he  tells  us  too  that  he  wrote  "  Lara  " 
while  undressing,  after  coming  home  from  balls  and 
masquerades.  "  The  Bride  "  was  written  in  four  days, 
which  would  explain  what  he  means  when  he  declares 
that  his  composition  had  to  be  done  at  the  first  spring, 
like  a  tiger  for  his  prey. 

His  poetry  produced  an  immediate  effect,  unparal- 
leled in  the  literary  history  of  any  people.  Yet  he 
called  the  amiable  though  indiscreet  John  Murray,  his 
chief  publisher,  *'  the  meanest  of  God's  book-sellers." 
The  reader  will  recall  Mr.  Murray  as  the  Scotch  printer 
whose  interesting  "  Life  "  was  issued  a  few  years  ago 
and  universally  read,  and  who  was  so  much  devoted  to 
poetry  and  the  younger  poets  that  he  brought  himself 
to  the  verge  of  bankruptcy  on  several  occasions  by 
being  their  uncompensated  publisher,  and  then  to  pros- 
perity again  by  the  publication  of  his  own  more  famous 
and  popular  "  Cook  Book,"  vacillating  thus  between 
the  arts  poetic  and  culinary  for  many  years. 

The  injudicious  but  sympathetic  and  overcredulous 
Captain  Thomas  Medwyn  of  the  Twenty- fourth  Light 


2o6  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

Dragoons,  Shelley's  cousin,  says  in  his  "  Conversations 
with  Lord  Byron,"  for  the  noble  lord  furnished  pi- 
quant copy  for  many  writing  amateurs :  "  His 
memory  was  truly  wonderful.  He  never  read  his 
own  works  except  in  the  proof  sheets;  yet  such  was 
his  memory  that  he  could  repeat  every  word  of  them 
and  everything  else  worth  remembering  that  he  had 
ever  read."  "  I  never  knew  a  man,"  he  further  adds, 
"  who  shows  so  much  in  conversation.  There  are  no 
concealments," — this  has  reference  to  certain  abnor- 
mal slanders  uttered  by  Byron  against  himself  and 
others  which  the  unsophisticated  captain  swallowed  as 
silly  fish  are  said  to  swallow  gudgeons, — "  no  injunc- 
tions to  secrecy.  He  tells  everything  he  has  thought  or 
done,  or  imagines  he  has,  without  reserve,  as  if 
he  had  appropriated  to  himself  the  shadiest  episodes  of 
the  romancers. 

"  His  addiction  to  nocturnal  gin  drinking,  often  a 
pint  a  night,  this  only  though  while  he  was  in  Italy, 
was  due,"  says  the  same  Plutarch,  ''  to  too  much  confi- 
dence in  his  medical  adviser,  who  recommended  it  in 
viva  voce  for  a  nephritic  disorder  to  which  he  was  sub- 
ject." Another  slander  on  the  profession.  He  was 
never  a  drunkard  when  everybody  drank,  but  rather 
extremely  abstemious.  For  long  stretches  he  ate  but 
once  a  day  and  lived  chiefly  on  vegetables.  His  pas- 
sions were  violent;  so  were  his  affections;  but  while 
the  former  were  often  but  for  a  moment  the  latter  ex- 
tended through  life.  He  could  be  led  by  a  silken  cord 
rather  than  a  cable. 


BYRON  207 

When  Murray  remonstrated  with  him  for  giving 
money  to  a  convivial  and  otherwise  unfortunate  author 
to  whom  nobody  else  would  give  a  farthing,  he  said, 
"  It  is  for  that  reason  I  give,  because  no  one  else  will." 
"  How  much  do  you  want?  "  he  asked  of  the  author. 
"  One  hundred  and  fifty  pounds."  ''  Very  well,"  he 
said,  ''  when  I  return  I  will  deposit  that  amount  with 
Murray,  and  he  will  give  it  to  you  in  ten-pound  monthly 
installments."  The  subsequent  abuse  of  this  man  but 
elicited  Byron's  pity. 

He  was  universally  read.  When  first  visiting  Italy 
he  could  hardly  speak  a  sentence  of  Italian,  but  finally 
spoke  it  like  a  native.  He  read  Greek,  Latin,  and 
French,  and  was  a  constant  reader  of  the  Bible,  espe- 
cially of  the  Old  Testament,  which  he  liked  best.  His 
"  Hebrew  Melodies  "  would  show  that.  He  committed 
many  chapters  to  memory.  His  being  brought  up  in 
Scotland  would  account  for  that.  While  in  Italy  when 
he  was  said  —  and  the  report  was  confirmed  by  himself 
with  gusto  —  to  have  lived  a  life  of  unending  de- 
bauchery, he  studied  the  Armenian  language  and  trans- 
lated into  it  a  good  deal  of  the  writings  of  St.  Paul. 

The  Guiccioli,  in  her  interesting  but  fantastically 
written  "  Recollections,"  writes :  "  In  him  was  seen  the 
realization  of  that  rare  thing  in  nature,  intellectual 
versatility  combined  with  unswen^ing  principle.  No- 
bility of  mind  united  with  a  constant  heart."  Not 
only  was  he  then  living  with  her,  with  the  consent  of 
her  amiable  husband,  but  he  had  at  that  time  abandoned 
not  only  his  wife,  against  whom  there  were  no  impu- 


2o8  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

tations  of  unworthiness  or  immorality,  but  three  or 
four  other  women  as  well.  Thus  opinions  differ,  and 
"  nobility,  constancy  of  heart,  and  unswerving  princi- 
ple "  would  mean  different  things,  it  would  seem,  to 
different  people. 


LADY   BYROX 

Byron's  wife,  Anna  Isabella  Milbanke,  the  only  daugh- 
ter of  Ralph  Milbanke  (afterward  Noel)  and  mother  of 
Ada,  afterward  the  Countess  of  Lovelace,  Byron's  only 
legitimate  child.  After  Lady  Byron's  separation  from 
her  husband  she  became  the  Baroness  of  Wentworth. 
She  was  a  woman  of  superior  talent  and  a  nice  taste  in 
letters  and  with  a  life  dedicated  to  good   works. 


Facing  p.   208. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

The  "  overlanguaged  "  DTsraeli,  in  his  preface  to 
his  "  Essay  on  the  Literary  Character,"  says  of  the 
sixth  Lord  Byron :  "  This  man  of  genius  was  a  moral 
phenomenon  which  vanished  " —  alluding  to  his  early 
death  — ''  at  the  moment  when  by  its  indications  a 
change  was  silently  operating  on  the  most  ductile  and 
versatile  of  human  minds.  ...  If  the  mind  of 
Byron  was  disorganized  and  unsettled,  so  also  were  its 
searchings  and  inquisitions.  His  opinions  indeed 
were  already  changed,  his  self-knowledge  much  in- 
creased, his  knowledge  of  nature  much  more  just,  his 
knowledge  of  mankind  much  more  profound.  .  .  . 
Another  step  and  he  would  have  discovered  that  virtue 
is  a  reality  and  happiness  a  positive  existence.  He 
would  have  found  that  the  hum  of  human  cities  is  not 
torture,  that  society  is  not  a  peopled  desert,  and  that 
the  world  is  only  a  place  of  strife  and  agony  to  those 
who  are  hostile  and  therefore  agonized." 

Goethe,  a  great  admirer  of  Byron,  said  of  him  that 
"  he  was  inspired  by  the  Genius  of  Pain."  "  His  chief 
incentive,  when  a  boy,  to  distinction,"  he  writes,  ''  was, 
as  we  have  seen,  that  mark  of  deformity  on  his  person 
by  the  acute  sense  of  which  he  was  stung  into  the  am- 
bition of  being  great."  To  realize  something  of  the 
continuous  intensity  of  Goethe's  enthusiastic  admira- 

209 


210  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

tion  you  must  read  Eckermann's  "  Gesprache." 
Among  many  other  extravagant  things  he  calls  him 
the  greatest  mind  and  imagination  that  ever  existed, 
taire,  Goethe  thought  Shakespeare,  as  you  and  I  do, 
the  greatest  mind  and  imagination  that  ever  existed. 

Byron  tells  of  himself  that  many  of  his  poems  were 
composed  under  depression  of  spirits  and  during  severe 
indispositions.  "  My  health,"  he  writes,  '*  is  not  per- 
fectly re-established.  I  have  recovered  everything  but 
my  spirits."  Or  again,  showing  how,  in  spite  of  all,  he 
lived  a  life  of  great  and  varied  activity,  he  writes  to  a 
friend,  *'  i\Iy  time  has  been  occupied  in  transporting  a 
servant  for  repeated  stealing,  performing  in  private 
theatricals,  publishing  a  volume  of  poems,  making  love, 
and  taking  physic;  and  the  drugs  I  swallowed  are  of 
such  variety  in  their  composition  that  between  Venus 
and  Esculapius  I  am  harassed  to  death."  So  that  lit- 
erally, what  with  his  humiliating  lameness  and  im- 
perious nerves,  from  cradle  to  grave  —  from  John 
Hunter,  who  "  tortured  him,"  to  Drs.  Bruno  and  Mil- 
ligan,   the  doctors   who  bled  him  in  his  last  illness, 

and  in  whom  he  saw  "  a  d d  set  of  butchers  " —  he 

was  in  the  hands  of  doctors. 

Although  like  most  epileptics  he  but  seldom  alluded 
by  name  to  his  malady,  he  never  seems  entirely  to  have 
gotten  from  under  the  shadow  of  it.  In  one  of  his 
letters  to  Leigh  Hunt  he  declares  it  to  be  his  opinion 
that  an  addiction  to  poetry  is  very  generally  the  result 
of  an  uneasy  mind  in  an  uneasy  body.  "  Disease  and 
deformity,"   he  adds,   "  have  been  the  attendants  of 


BYRON  211 

many  of  our  best.  Collins,  mad;  Chatterton,  I  think, 
mad;  Pope,  crooked;  Milton,  blind,"  all  of  which  but 
shows  how  susceptible  he  was  to  the  embarrassments 
of  his  own  condition.  He  might  have  added  many 
other  examples  of  physical  incapacity  associated  with 
beneficent  mentality  without  being  at  all  convincing, 
because  the  cases  he  cites  are  merely  exceptional.  In 
spite  of  them  nothing  is  more  certain  than  the  sanity  of 
human  greatness. 

Still  harping  on  his  infirmities,  he  became  afraid  that 
his  daughter  Ada  whom  he  never  saw  after  she  was 
six  weeks  old, —  the  late  Countess  of  Lovelace, — 
might  inherit  his  distemper.  A  letter  from  Mrs.  Leigh, 
his  half-sister,  found  by  Trelawney  among  his  papers 
after  his  death,  contained  a  transcript  of  a  letter  from 
Lady  Byron  (his  wife)  to  Mrs.  Leigh,  telling  of 
Ada's  health.  An  unfinished  reply  to  this  from  his 
lordship, —  the  letter  mentioned  by  Moore  in  his  "  Life 
and  Correspondence  of  Lady  Byron," —  asks  whether 
she  thought  that  Lady  Byron  would  permit  Hetagee, 
a  Turkish  child  he  took  a  fancy  to  and  desired  to  adopt, 
to  become  a  companion  to  Ada.  ''  Lady  Byron,"  he 
adds,  "  should  be  warned  of  Ada's  resemblance  to  me, 
in  infancy;  and  it  should  be  suggested  to  her  that  my 
epilepsy  may  be  hereditary,"  thus  showing  not  only 
parental  anxiety  and  affection,  but  that  familiarity 
with  the  nature  of  his  disease  and  the  necessity  for  an 
attendant  until  cured,  when  curable,  w-hich  evidently 
caused  him  much  mental  distress. 

It  might  be  appropriate  here  to  say  that  Byron's  ep- 


212  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

ilepsy  was  likely  due  to  alcoholism  on  the  part  of  his 
father, —  the  cause,  many  authorities  believe,  of  nearly 
forty  per  cent,  of  all  cases  of  epilepsy.  The  present 
writer  is  of  the  opinion  that  not  only  chronic  alcohol- 
ism,—  that  is,  the  state  of  being  under  the  intoxicating 
and  nervardeteriorating  effects  of  alcohol  all  the  time, — 
but  acute  alcoholism, —  that  is,  being  drunk  for  a  few 
hours  and  only  at  long  intervals, —  other  things  being 
equal,  is  as  likely  to  result  in  epilepsy.  If  either 
parent,  or  both,  are  intoxicated  during  conception  the 
offspring  thus  conceived  is  about  as  likely  to  be  an  epi- 
leptic or  the  victim  of  some  other  neurosis  as  if  the 
parents  were  chronic  drunkards.  The  writer  has 
traced  seven  cases  of  epilepsy  to  solitary  or  single  in- 
ebriations on  the  part  of  one  or  both  parents.  See  the 
author's  article,  "  Relation  of  Alcoholism  to  Epilepsy/' 
in  the  Journal  of  the  American  Medical  Association, 
February  9,  1907,  vol.  xlviii ;  also  "  Intoxication  in  the 
Parent  as  a  Cause  of  Epilepsy  in  the  Child,"  printed  by 
the  government  in  The  Alcohol  Problem  in  Its  Prac- 
tical Relations  to  Life. 

It  was  this  concern,  creditable  alike  to  his  discretion 
and  affection  for  others,  that,  in  order  to  be  prepared 
for  every  contingency,  caused  Byron  nearly  always  to 
include  a  doctor  in  his  retinue  of  traveling  companions. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

We  have  devoted  the  leisure  of  the  past  few 
months  to  biographies  of  distinguished  men,  especially 
of  poets,  and  we  are  always  glad  to  get  away  from 
them,  out  into  the  garden  to  be  devoured  by 
mosquitoes  while  pulling  weeds.  Anything  is  a  pleas- 
ant relief  after  reading  the  lives  of  the  poets. 

Men  of  great  intellectual  achievements,  especially  if 
their  achievements  be  the  result  of  protracted  applica- 
tion, are  not,  it  seems,  capable  of  taking  care  of  them- 
selves. When  relieved  from  their  labors  they  are  in 
need  of  chaperones,  like  girls  at  horse  races.  Since 
they  are  above  being  advised  by  their  families  or  the 
police,  governmental  protection  from  the  wiles  of  the 
wicked  is  a  crying  need,  it  is  conjectured,  for  this  class 
of  "  supremely  gifted  people." 

The  failure  on  the  part  of  governments  to  take  care 
of  their  geniuses,  as  they  do  of  other  perhaps  less  wor- 
thy defectives, —  genius,  we  are  told,  being  a  sort  of 
madness, —  has  been  discovered  as  such  a  serious  lack 
in  our  legislative  make-up  that  it  has  been  intimated  by 
someone,  Mr.  Barrie  we  think,  while  writing  about 
Robert  Burns,  or  may  be  it  was  Schopenhauer  or 
Schleiermacher  or  Walter  Bagehot  —  it  is  safe  to 
ascribe     things     you     are     not     willing     to     father 

yourself   to   these,    since   nobody   reads   them,    or   if 

213 


214  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

a  few  do,  they  read  nothing  else  —  however,  it  has  been 
intimated  by  someone  that  the  constitution  of  every 
civilized  state  should  contain  a  clause,  or  clauses,  pro- 
viding for  the  protection  and  management  of  these  men 
of  asymmetrical  intellect,  otherwise  known  as  "  persons 
of  supreme  parts."  They  are  so  absorbed  "  laying  foun- 
dations for  immutabilities,"  like  poor  erring  Henly,  for 
example,  who  has  "  just  exchanged  his  cotton  night- 
cap for  a  martyr's  crown,"  or  in  the  painful  production 
of  "  euphemistic  phrases,"  an  occupation  indeed  as 
devitalizing  and  deadly  as  picking  rags  or  testing  eggs, 
that  when  released,  like  schoolboys  just  out  of  school 
or  skylarks  descending  to  the  brown  earth  from  their 
melodious  flight  to  the  zenith,  they  fall  an  easy  prey  to 
the  net  of  the  fowler  or  even  more  palpably  vulgar 
allurements.  *'  In  vain  is  the  net  spread  in  the  sight 
of  any  bird  "  does  not  apply,  it  would  seem,  to  human 
singers,  or  to  other  great  ones  not  favored  with  the 
divine  gift  of  song. 

Lord  Byron's  irregularities,  we  have  noticed,  were 
to  a  great  extent  after  the  labor  of  composition  had  left 
him  exhausted,  yet  exuberant,  because  of  having  com- 
pleted a  difficult  task.  It  is  then  that  people  of  poetic 
temperament  need  the  mothering  of  such  a  govern- 
ment as  has  been  suggested  to  soothe  them  back  to 
sanity  and  to  protect  them  from  the  seductions  of  the 
wicked,  ever  lying  in  wait  for  helpless  innocence,  and 
to  lure  them  again  to  common  sense  and  sobriety. 
The  profane  do  not  seem  to  know  that  all  great  voca- 
tions necessitate   a  continuous   and   exclusive   culture 


BYRON  215 

and  "aloofness"  from  the  common  affairs  of  life; 
consequently  they  do  not  make  sufficient  allowance 
for  the  childlike  tendency  of  running  into  errors  of 
conduct,  so  common  to  great  writers  and  other  men 
of  supreme  faculty,  poor  things. 

Think  with  tears  of  the  too  submissive  Goethe  with 
his  singular  domestic  complications  and  other  compro- 
mising mutualities.  Was  it  because  he  was  not  appre- 
ciated in  his  home?  Or  think  of  that  tower  of  phil- 
ologic  and  diplomatic  strength,  Wilhelm  von  Hum- 
boldt,—  see  Die  Brief e  an  einer  Freimdin, —  or  unso- 
phisticated Heine  as  helpless  in  the  coils  of  wickedness 
as  a  bird  in  the  claws  of  a  cat.  Or  of  Lord  Nelson, 
the  hero  of  Trafalgar,  who  "  carried  his  greatness  with 
the  meekness  of  a  child,"  or  of  our  modern  master  of 
mentality  and  pure  vernunft,  John  Stuart  Mills,  or  of 
the  cynical  Thackeray,  or  even  of  that  man  of  moral 
rectitude  and  humanity.  Napoleon,  like  a  cedar  of 
Lebanon  in  a  flower-pot  destined  to  destruction  and 
premature  death, —  conceive  of  their  getting  too 
far  away  from  their  mothers'  apron  strings  in  time  of 
temptation.  Or  even  think  of  the  austere,  self-right- 
eous Dante,  of  whom  it  has  been  said  that  "  he  would 
always  be  considered  a  great  poet  because  nobody 
would  read  him."  What  irascibility  and  vindictive- 
ness  might  have  been  taken  out  of  his  embittered  life 
and  otherwise  charming  comedy,  with  its  playful  epi- 
sodes specially  invented  for  enemies.  What  pangs 
and  anguish  would  have  been  taken  out  of  ours  when 
we  were  children —  it  and  Fox's  *'  Book  of  Martyrs  " 


2i6  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

were  among  our  carefully  selected  Sunday  reading  — 
if  only  his  government  instead  of  merely  banishing 
him  had  cut  his  throat  or  had  put  him  into  some  old 
man's  home,  or  in  some  retreat  for  helpless  geniuses, 
and  given  him  a  pension.  As  it  was,  exile  was  bad 
enough;  but  his  embittered  compatriots'  threatening 
him  "  twice  "  that  if  he  should  ever  return  to  Tuscany 
they  would  burn  him  alive,  not  an  empty  threat  in  those 
''  holy  "  days  of  the  long  ago,  must  have  been  salt  to 
his  stripes,  and  offers  some  excuse  for  his  sour  looks 
and  brimstone  retaliation. 

Think,  though,  of  his  deserted  wife  whom  nobody 
seems  to  consider,  so  much  of  a  mere  hero-worshiper 
is  man.  She  was  ''  eating  another's  bread  "  and  climb- 
ing other  men's  stairs,  when  her  acrimonious  husband 
ought  to  have  provided  her  with  bread  and  stairs  of 
her  own  instead  of  frittering  away  his  life  over  an 
absurd  book  that  was  wicked  enough  to  make  Satan 
laugh.  And  think  of  his  seven  children,  whom,  great 
"  self-obliterating  poet  '*  that  he  was,  he  never  even 
mentioned  either  in  his  books  or  in  his  letters,  so  much 
concerned  was  he  in  putting  better  men  in  hell.  And 
our  Milton,  too,  his  brother  in  so  many  ways,  among 
others  adding  to  the  elegance  of  the  Italian  tongue,  yet 
he  never  turned  his  back  on  duty.  Why  did  he  not 
have  a  government  guardian,  if  for  nothing  else,  to 
interdict  his  marriage,  for  which  he  was  no  more  fit 
than  Bernardine  was  fit  to  be  hanged? 

Since  Isaac  DTsraeli  says  that  "  fortune  has  rarely 
condescended  to  be  the   companion  of  genius,"    en- 


BYRON  217 

lightened  government,  you  might  think,  ought  to  sup- 
ply them  —  since  trained  nurses  are  out  of  the  ques- 
tion —  at  least  with  police  protection  and  a  secured 
income. 

We  repeat,  the  world  does  not  seem  to  be  aware 
that  the  very  refinements  of  imagination  and  fancy, 
not  to  say  "  frenzy,"  to  which  is  due  the  poet's  capacity 
for  doing  superior  work,  are  at  times,  too,  but  the 
ignis  fatiins  that  leads  them  astray. 

Thus  until  governments  rise  to  the  occasion  of  fos- 
tering and  protecting  their  great  men,  standing  as 
barriers  between  them  and  nearly  always  invincible 
temptation,  as  a  matter  of  policy  —  this  is  written  for 
people  supposed  to  know  Byron  —  we  should  do  it 
ourselves,  you  and  I,  generous  reader,  since  there  is 
no  knowing  when  even  the  least  of  us,  *'  mind  you," 
a  favorite  colloquialism  of  Lord  Byron,  may  entertain 
a  genius  unawares  in  our  own  family.  It  is  thus  that 
the  sedulous  consideration  of  a  wise  wife,  wnde  awake 
nurse,  caretaker,  or  press  agent  might  transform  the 
most  impoverished  and  impossible  genius  into  the 
owner  of  a  pew  in  church,  and  of  a  w^ell  regulated 
family.  Management !  the  magic  wand  transmitting 
the  base  metal  of  indiscretion  and  folly  into  the  gold 
of  prudence. 

The  Guiccioli,  judging  from  the  imanimous  verdict 
of  most  of  Byron's  biographers  —  not  to  speak  it  too 
profanely  or  in  any  way  justifying  the  alliance  — 
w^ould  seem  for  a  time  to  have  been  the  one  for  him. 
The  probabilities  were,  though,  that  after  the  defeat 


2i8  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

of  his  Quixotic  ventures  in  the  East,  the  failure  of  his 
Greek  folly  or  glory,  just  as  you  take  it,  he  would 
have  returned  to  his  wife  and  nearer  duty,  and  dedi- 
cated the  remainder  of  his  days  to  wisdom.  For,  after 
all,  he  loved  his  wife.  jHis  heartrending  dying  words 
show  that;  the  confession  to  Moore  also  that  she  was 
*'  the  best  woman  he  ever  knew  "  testifies  to  the  same 
fact. 

In  matrimonial  incompatibility,  or  where  the  faults 
or  unhappiness  of  wedlock  are  ascribed  to  it,  the  other 
woman,  it  would  seem,  would  always  have  been  the 
right  one.  This  has  been  the  conviction  and  practice 
of  unbridled  man  from  the  comparatively  more  vir- 
tuous Hottentots  to  the  renegade  preacher  who  mar- 
ries divorcees,  from  the  time  when  man  was  more  of 
a  savage  to  the  present  day.  But  it  does  not  work: 
the  trail  of  the  serpent  is  over  it  all,  leaving  in  its  tor- 
tuous track  slime  and  putrefaction. 

Every  man,  even  if  a  non-epileptic,  is  not  a  Julius 
Csesar,  capable  of  taking  care  of  himself  from  un- 
tutored childhood  to  his  being  carried  away  captive 
when  a  boy,  and  on  through  numerous  triumphs  until 
his  just-in-the-nick-of-time  assassination!  Everything, 
—  the  very  spot  at  the  foot  of  Pompey's  statue !  the 
very  folds  of  his  garments,  "  like  the  pale  martyr  in 
his  shirt  of  flame," —  arranged  by  his  all-discerning 
intelligence ! 


CHAPTER  XXV 

For  correct  medical  appraisement  it  would  be  dif- 
ficult to  make  a  complete  inventory  of  such  qualities  as 
Byron  exhibited.  Unlike  Csesar  and  like  Mohammed, 
his  writings  at  times  reflected  his  disease,  complicated 
perhaps  with  some  other  neurosis.  They  are  morbid 
like  the  man,  sullen,  moody,  capricious,  irritable,  rest- 
less, uneven,  rampant,  hurrying  from  one  extreme  to 
another,  nothing  in  moderation,  so  that  you  find  in 
him  as  in  some  parts  of  the  "  Giaour,"  and  in  many 
other  places,  the  sweetest  poetry  in  the  English  lan- 
guage; in  others  there  are  lines  that  outrage  every 
sense,  nothing  in  moderation,  gloating  over  instead  of 
finding  virtue  and  solace  in  beauty  or  beautiful  things, 
as  normal  man  should.  Feverish  strength  rather  than 
calm  beauty  of  style  characterizes  much  of  his  poetry; 
even  its  decorations  and  embellishments  are  gaudy  and 
grotesque,  *'  like  flowers  on  the  face  of  the  dead," 
meretricious.  It  would  at  times  seem  as  if  he  wrote 
as.  women  gamble,  to  drive  away  enniii  or  to  substitute 
a  feverish  and  irritable  excitement  for  listless  indolence 
and  empty  repose. 

Much  of  his  poetry  and  many  of  his  perfonnances 

could  be  divided  into  states  or  periods,  like  a  fit, — 

aura,  spasm,   faintness,  prodromus,  crisis,  sequelae, — 

thus    harking   back    not    only    to    a    hystero-epileptic 

219 


220  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

mother  about  the  time  of  his  birth  disgraced 
by  a  reprobate  husband,  deprived  of  dignified  pro- 
tection and  all  a  woman  holds  dear,  but  to 
other  progenitors  besides  his  father.  There  was 
Captain  John  Byron  of  the  Guards,  the  "  mad,  sad, 
bad,"  but  not  "  glad  "  ''  Jack  "  Byron,  to  use  epithets 
less  suitable  than  villain.  And  again,  there  was  his 
grand-uncle,  William,  the  *'  wicked "  Lord  Byron, 
w^hose  heir  he  became  in  his  eleventh  year,  and  who 
killed  Miss  Chaworth's  father  in  a  room  into  which 
they  had  retired  alone  to  fight  a  duel  in  the  dark,  for 
which  he  was  afterwards  tried  and  found  guilty  of 
manslaughter  and  only  escaped  being  hanged  by  being 
a  peer. 

No  wonder  England  wants  tO'  abolish  the  peerage. 
It  seems  that  according  to  English  law  or  custom  you 
cannot  be  a  peer  and  be  hanged  too.  You  can  be 
either  one  or  the  other,  not  both.  You  cannot  have 
everything,  even  in  England.  That  is  the  reason  their 
form  of  government  is  called  a  "  Limited  Monarchy." 
Even  the  peerage  has  its  limitations. 

This  trial  of  Byron's  grandfather  for  manslaughter 
became  an  important  item  in  the  history  of  this  aris- 
tocratic institution.  It  took  place  in  Westminster 
Hall,  and  the  interest  in  it  was  so  great  that  tickets 
of  admittance  were  sold  for  as  high  as  six  guineas 
apiece.  The  peers  after  two  days  of  deliberation  re- 
turned a  verdict  of  manslaughter.  Byron  pleaded  his 
privileges  as  a  member  of  their  body,  paid  his  fees  and 
escaped,  but  the  Nemesis  of  remorse  never  after  aban- 


JJISS    CHAWORTII 

"The  Heiress  of  Anncsley,"  perhaps  liyron's  first 
sweetheart.  Byron's  uncle,  wliose  heir  he  was,  killed 
Miss  Chaworth's  father  in  a  duel,  one  of  the  conditions 
of  which  was  that  the  combatants  were  to  be  locked  up 
together  in  a  dark  room.  The  uncle  was  afterward 
tried  foi  manslaughter  and  found  guilty,  but  took  ad- 
vantage of  his  position  as  a  peer  to  esca])e  the  death 
penalty. 


Facing    f.    220. 


BYRON  221 

doned  him.  He  appears  henceforth  a  specter,  a 
haunted  man,  roaming  about  under  false  names  "  or 
shut  up  in  the  Abbey  like  a  baited  savage,  shunned 
by  his  fellows  and  the  object  of  the  wildest  invention." 
It  was  believed  by  the  superstitious  that  "  devils  at- 
tended him  "  and  many  other  such  legends  were  cir- 
culated about  *'  the  wicked  lord."  Byron  himself  re- 
lated that  his  ancestor's  "  only  companions  were  the 
crickets  that  used  to  crawl  over  him,  and  that  received 
stripes  with  straws  when  they  misbehaved,  and  that  on 
his  death  made  an  exodus  from  the  house  in  single 
file."  This,  however,  like  the  circumstantial  account 
of  his  own  personal  adventures  may  be  but  the  lan- 
guage of  imaginative  invention. 

There  is  nothing  more  extraordinary  about  Byron 
than  his  infatuations.  There  were  many  of  them ;  but 
Miss  Chaworth,  the  daughter  of  the  nobleman  men- 
tioned above  who  was  murdered  like  a  rat  in  a  hole 
or  like  Polonius  behind  the  arras  by  Byron's  grand- 
uncle,  was  the  object  of  his  deepest  and  most  genuine 
affection.  An  attachment  precocious  to  be  sure  —  he 
was  sixteen,  she  eighteen  years  old  —  but  which,  if  in 
due  time  it  had  been  consummated  in  marriage, 
might  have  diverted  the  troubled  current  of  his  life 
into  a  quieter  haven,  and  the  world  might  have  been 
deprived  of  some  of  its  literary  treasures  as  well  as 
adventures,  scandals, —  products  of  the  Byron  of 
romance  and  despair,  of  high  resolve  and  daring, — 
the  soliloquies  of  Manfred,  the  exploits  of  Childe 
Harold  and  Don  Juan,  the  lamentations  and  rebellion 


222  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

of  Cain,  and  in  their  place  there  would  have  been  a 
Byron  depressed  but  respectable,  and  likely  henpecked 
and  unproductive. 

"  The  Heiress  of  Annesley,"  as  Miss  Chaworth  was 
called,  lived  on  the  next  estate  to  Newstead  Abbey, 
Byron's  home  from  his  twelfth  year.  While  visiting 
the  young  lady  he  always  declined  remaining  over 
night,  because,  as  he  confessed  later,  he  was  afraid 
the  family  portraits  had  taken  a  grudge  against  him  on 
account  of  the  duel,  and  would  come  down  from  their 
frames  at  night  to  haunt  him. 

This  fancy  the  not  too  serious  reader,  the  one  who 
does  not  give  his  days  and  nights  to  the  study  of  Addi- 
son, will  remember  was  afterward  used  by  Gilbert  and 
Sullivan  in  the  opera  of  "  Ruddygore,"  which  may 
have  been  suggested  by  Byron's  boyish  confession. 
From  this  confession  may  be  seen  the  undeveloped  but 
poetic  mind  of  the  imaginative  boy  associated  with  the 
passion  of  the  man.  Finally,  on  account  of  having 
seen  a  hogle  (Scotch  for  ghost)  on  his  way  back  at 
night  to  Newstead,  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  sleep  at 
Annesley  during  the  remainder  of  his  visits. 

'^  In  six  short  summer  weeks  in  her  company,"  said 
Moore,  "  he  laid  the  foundation  of  a  feeling  that  lasted 
for  Hfe." 

In  an  unhappy  moment  he  overheard  Miss  Chaworth 
in  conversation  with  her  maid  say,  "  Do  you  think  I 
could  care  anything  for  that  lame  boy?  "  The  speech, 
as  he  told  afterward,  ''  was  like  a  shot  through  the 
heart."     Though  late  at  night  when  he  heard  it,  he 


BYRON  223 

instantly  dashed  out  of  the  house,  and  never  stopped 
until  he  found  himself  at  Newstead  Abbey.  Thus 
ended,  until  tragically  renewed  long  after,  one  of  his 
most  sacred  romances. 

The  relation  of  these  two  houses  was  something 
like,  it  would  seem,  that  of  the  Montagues  and 
Capulets  in  "  Romeo  and  Juliet."  "  Our  union," 
Byron  said,  "  would  have  healed  the  feuds  in  our 
homes  for  which  blood  had  been  spilled  by  our 
fathers."  He  always  had  an  interesting  and  pic- 
turesque way  of  putting  things. 

In  an  exquisite  poem,  "  The  Dream,"  in  allusion  to 
Miss  Chaworth  he  vv^rites  that 

"  She  was  his  life, 
The  ocean  to  the  river  of  his  thoughts." 

And  his  future  might  have  been  different  indeed, 
and  so  would  ours,  as  formerly  intimated,  if  his  do- 
mestic life  had  been  arranged  under  happier  auspices. 

It  is  singular  that  the  two  men  of  modern  times 
exhibiting  the  greatest  ferocity  against  social  conven- 
tion, as  if  in  a  state  of  constant  riot, —  George  Noel 
Byron,  George  Bernard  Shaw, —  were  both  pro- 
nounced vegetarians  and  teetotalers.  Byron,  although 
generally  as  abstemious  as  an  anchorite  and  as  tem- 
perate as  a  Mussulman,  at  times  did  violence  to  his 
principles,  but  Shaw  rigidly  adheres  to  his. 

Contrary  to  general  opinion,  the  belligerent  protests 
of  neither  are  due  either  to  beef  or  brandy.     Allan 


224  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

Ramsay's  lines  in  his  "  Poem  to  Newstead  Abbey," 

"  For  wild  of  life,  untamed  of  mood, 
Was  Byron;  so  was  Robin  Hood," 

had  no  reference  to  meat  and  drink,  Lucullus  feasts, 
and  the  revelry  of  the  cup,  but  rather  to  that  untram- 
meled  and  rebellious  state  of  mind  that  is  remote  from 
philosophic  calm  and  serenity. 

Of  all  men  likely  to  misinterpret  adverse  circum- 
stances *'  into  proofs  of  divine  grace "  Byron  and 
Shaw  are  the  least  likely,  for  protest  rather  than  sub- 
mission is  the  key-note  of  their  mental  tarantella,  a 
note  leonine,  boisterous,  persistent,  without  the  foreign 
aid  of  conciliatory  accompaniment. 

Think  of  it,  ye  carnivorous  but  anemic  multitude 
demanding  daily  hecatomb  of  slaughtered  innocence 
for  your  enfeeblement. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

Notwithstanding  Byron's  proclamation  of  being 
a  liberal  in  politics  and  his  platitudes  about  social 
equality,  his  ridicule  of  "  pride  of  birth  "  and  his  ar- 
raignment of  the  nobility,  "  a  noblemen  being,"  he 
said,  ''the  tenth  transmitter  of  a  foolish  face," — like 
Shaw,  proclaiming  himself  a  socialist, —  notwithstand- 
ing all  this  he  was  at  heart  an  aristocrat.  He  was 
unlike  Shaw  in  that  he  was  prouder  of  his  Norman 
descent  than  of  his  mental  endowments.  Tennyson's 
lines  about  its  being  only  noble  to  be  good  would  have 
given  Byron  gooseflesh. 

"  Howe'r  it  be,  it  seems  to  me, 
'Tis  only  noble  to  be  good. 
Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets, 
And  simple  faith  than  Norman  blood.'* 

To  be  sure  if  it  had  been,  any  other  blood,  Shaw's  for 
example,  he  would  have  been  just  as  proud  of  it.  It 
is  always  our  blood  that  elicits  extravagant  personal 
admiration.  Not  many  are  disloyal  enough  to  their 
ancestry  to  say  with  Bums, 

"  Our  ancient  but  ignoble  blood 
Has  run  in  scoundrels  ever  since  the  flood." 

And  if  they  did  we  would  properly  think  less  of  them 

22S 


226  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

for  saying  it.  If  we  should  say  nothing  but  good  of 
the  dead,  then  we  should  be  doubly  careful  to  say 
nothing  but  good,  of  our  own  dead.  Leave  the  saying 
of  unkind  things  to  their  enemies. 

Notwithstanding  either  Byron's  not  overly  high 
estimate  of  the  writing  fraternity  and  his  belittling 
of  the  profession  of  letters,  he  knew  as  well  as  you, 
gentle  reader  with  a  literary  ambition,  that  the  ca- 
pacity enabling  a  man  to  write  a  book  worthy  of  being 
read  by  serious  persons, —  a  great  play,  poem,  or  any 
great  work  welling  out  of  the  heart  of  man,  like  a 
geyser  out  of  an  abyss, —  is  the  greatest  human 
achievement.  And  he  knew  that  nothing  is  so  likely 
to  secure  endless  fame,  the  mortal  putting  on  immor- 
tality, as  the  production  of  one  great  little  book.  Tem- 
ples, mosques,  cathedrals,  dwindle ;  the  great  book  lives 
on. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  immediate  physical  history  of 
the  poet's  family  on  both  sides  is  bad.  His  mother,  al- 
though the  daughter  of  a  "  Gordon  of  Gight  "  and  a 
descendant  of  William  Gordon,  the  third  son  of  the 
Earl  of  Huntly  by  the  daughter  of  King  James  I  of 
Scotland,  had  hystero-epilepsy. 

Abandoned  and  robbed  by  her  profligate  but  hand- 
some husband,  she  too,  the  field  of  her  capacity  never 
being  overly  araJDie,  became  periodically  flighty.  She 
was  kind  but  irritable;  gentle  but  without  self-control; 
violent  but  sympathetic  and  affectionate;  fond  of  her 
son,  yet  frequently  quarreling  with  him,  especially 
when  she  was  nervous,  which  was  rather  often,  her 


BYRON  227 

weather-vane  temper  turning  its  point  to  every  breeze. 
A  woman  with  sick  ner\'es  and  a  sad  heart,  mostly 
needing  the  companionship  of  some  settled  person  of 
common  sense,  calm  and  serene,  when  probably  there 
would  have  been  nothing  unseemly  to  be  reported  in 
her  conduct.     Like  her  son,  she  needed  mothering. 

If  trained  nurses  and  proper  medical  treatment  for 
riotous  emotions  had  been  in  vogue  in  her  day,  and 
her  outbursts  had  been  held  as  secret  and  as  sacred 
as  the  conduct  of  the  sick  ought  to  be,  and  usually 
is  to-day,  she  would  have  become,  in  spite  of  provo- 
cation, an  exemplary  mother,  without  reflecting 
memories.  For  the  domestic  standards  of  her  family 
were  high.  And  notwithstanding  compromising  folly 
on  the  part  of  some  of  them  she  had  reason  to  be  proud 
of  her  forebears.  As  it  was,  within  her  circle,  her 
son's  circle,  contemporary  writers  were  lacking  in 
the  power  to  discriminate  between  sickness  and  dis- 
ease,— ■  especially  the  Byronic  intimate  set,  mostly  ir- 
responsible persons  living  at  variance  with  the  moral 
standards  of  their  country, —  and  they  put  an  evil  con- 
struction on  everything.  Even  the  obsequious  but 
pretentious  Moore  did  not  hesitate  to  stoop  to  un- 
gentlemanly  insinuations  and  slander.  The  few  harsh 
words  commonly  quoted  about  Byron's  mother  are 
about  all  that  is  generally  known  of  a  woman  who  was 
a  descendant  of  kings  and  who  traced  her  lineage  back 
to  chiefs  that  had  lived  in  Scotland  before  Caesar  con- 
quered Britain, —  the  mother  of  the  most  distin- 
guished man  of  the  century. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

Everybody  who  reads  about  Byron,  and  there  are 
more  who  read  about  him  than  of  him,  say  more  re- 
ferring to  his  character  than  to  his  poetry,  and  nobody 
mentions  his  prose,  as  if  he  were  a  merely  moral  prob- 
lem, capable  of  producing  amazement  rather  than 
pleasure. 

Some  have  looked  upon  him  as  a  saint, —  in  the 
rough,  that  is,  in  the  making, —  that  sooner  or  later  was 
bound  to  slough  off  the  unbecoming,  while  others  re- 
gard him,  like  Robert  Southey,  for  example,  as  a  hu- 
man monster,  horrible  in  every  respect.  Scott,  not- 
withstanding his  esteem,  regretted  his  noble  friend's 
tendency  to  exhibit  himself  too  much  as  the  Dying 
Gladiator,  says  John  Nichols,  and  even  compares 
Byron  "  when  in  his  spoiled-darling  mood  "  to  his  pea- 
cock screeching  before  his  window,  because  he  chose 
to  bivouac  apart  from  his  mate.  Sir  Walter  thus 
presents  us  with  one  of  his  delicious  discriminations. 
Goethe  in  his  idolatry  perceived  him  almost  as  a  spirit, 
a  sort  of  angel  —  see  ''  Euphorium,"  the  lovely  monu- 
ment erected  to  Byron's  memory  in  the  second  part 
of  Faust. 

But  of  all  who  wrote  about  the  author  of  ''  Childe 

Harold  "  none  are  so  excessively  eulogistic  and  wildly 

extravagant  as   Sefior  Castellar,  in  his   fantastic  but 

228 


BYRON  229 

brilliant  though  short  "  Life  of  Byron  "  which  is  ex- 
travagant to  the  point  of  bombast  and  Quixotic  infat- 
uation. Castellar  writes  of  Byron,  and  as  he  does  so 
you  can  in  imagination  see  the  panegyrist,  his  head 
enveloped  in  a  towel  wrung  out  in  ice  water,  like 
Sydney  Carton  in  ''  The  Tale  of  Two  Cities."  "  This 
extraordinary  being,"  he  writes,  meaning  Byron,  "  a 
savage  by  nature,  a  mountaineer  by  habit,  from  his 
sublime  genius  a  poet,  and  for  that  reason  incompre- 
hensible." Again,  "  The  great  genius  who  lived  to 
repeat  the  aspirations  of  all  peoples  and  who  died 
young  and  unfortunate."  "  He  often  wandered,"  he 
is  free  to  admit,  "  from  the  right  path;  yet  this  age, 
the  commencement  of  the  century  which  beheld  the 
Apollo-like  head  of  Byron,  crossed  with  sunbeams  and 
with  shadows,  could  exclaim.  This  is  my  symbol!  " 

The  Spaniard  in  his  enthusiasm  for  his  superman  is 
nothing  if  not  pyrotechnic, —  and  his  book  is  unlike 
anything  ever  written  about  Byron.  Not  only  the 
book  itself  but  the  preface  to  the  original  edition, 
written  by  his  friend  Jose  Roman  Leal,  of  Havana, 
as  an  illustration  of  the  nnder-a-curse  style  of  litera- 
ture is  par  excellence.  Castellar's  is  a  volcanic  book, 
in  which  everything  surges,  smokes,  smolders,  boils; 
"  lightnings  flash  through  the  brain  of  its  hero,  ser- 
pents entwine  themselves  around  his  heart,  his  pleas- 
ures are  embittered  by  poison,  his  soul  is  devoured 
with  the  disgust  of  reality,"  and  being  naturally 
*'  loyal,"  he  said,  *'  he  struck  the  earth  with  his  feet 
looking  for  the  flowing  of  its  joy."     This  we  surmise 


230  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

is  an  allusion  to  Moses  striking  the  rock.  Listen  to 
this :  "  In  his  changeful  mind  ideas  were  vacillating 
flames,  kindled  by  stormy  passions,  his  nerves  seemed 
to  snap  like  the  string  of  a  harp  when  strained  un- 
duly." "  He  passed  his  days  in  a  languor  resembling 
death,  and  his  nights  in  excitement  bordering  on  in- 
sanity." In  describing  his  hero  when  he  lived  at  No.  8 
St.  James  street,  central  part  of  London,  he  says  of 
him :  "  He  was  in  the  zenith  of  his  fame,  in  all  the  pride 
of  youth  and  manly  beauty,  in  the  fulness  of  his  mental 
vigor,  in  which  his  lips  scattered  oracles,  his  imperious 
glances  m.agnetized  those  before  him;  the  man  bore 
candor  stamped  upon  his  features;  his  eyes,  of  a  rare 
brilliancy  and  indefinable  color,  seemed  to  possess  an 
immortal  brightness.  Whatever  the  sculptor  has 
chiseled  in  order  to  express  genius,  either  before  or 
after  his  time,  appeared  in  Byron,  from  the  Apollo 
Belvedere  to  the  bust  of  Napoleon  by  Canova." 
Again,  "  Perhaps  it  would  be  impossible  to  paint  or 
model  genius,  without  copying  the  features  of  that 
truly  Apollo-like  physiognomy."  "  Lord  Byron  pos- 
sessed, too,  all  the  faculties  essential  to  an  orator, — 
sensibility,  imagination,  ideas,  a  flexible  voice,  which  re- 
sponded to  the  various  tones  of  thought,  a  flow  of 
words,  clear  notions  of  justice.  He  failed  only  in 
stability  of  purpose." 

He  continues  with  picturesque  detail  and  with  the 
abandon  possible  only  to  a  Spaniard,  as  if  he  had  been 
an  eye-witness  of  all  the  circumstances,  supposed  at- 
tachments, and  scandals  of  his  life,   beginning  with 


THE    COUNTESS    GUICCIOLI 

The  Countess  Teresa  Gamba  Guiccioli,  lent  by  her 
husband  to  Lord,  Byron  during  his  residence  in  Italy. 
This  thrifty  nobleman  even  rented  to  the  pair  sumjitu- 
ous  apartments  in  his  palace.  During  the  time  of  their 
living  together  in  Byron's  villa  at  La  Mira,  outride  of 
Venice,  the  Count  wrote  a  letter  to  his  young  wife  ask- 
ing lier  to  try  to  persuade  Byron  to  lend  him  1,000 
pounds  at  o  i)er  cent.  Instead  of  thirsting  for  the  blood 
of  his  wife's  betrayer — some  say  Byron  was  not  tlie 
tempter — he  only  longed  for  a  little  of  the  English- 
man's money.  Finally  the  husband  mustered  up  cour- 
age enough  to  run  away  with  his  own  wife,  to  Byron's 
great  deliglit.  Her  book  about  Byron  extols  him  as  a 
combination    of    saint    anil    demigod. 


Facing    p.    230. 


BYRON  231 

Miss   Chaworth  and  ending  with  Madame  de   Stael. 

Thus,  of  the  Guiccioli,  "Byron  —  with  a  wife  in 
England  and  a  conquest  of  a  dozen  hearts  more  or  less 
scattered  like  autumn  daisies  [daisies,  literal  transla- 
tion] over  the  face  of  the  bleak  earth."  "  From  the  be- 
ginning," it  seems,  "  his  career  was  accompanied  with 
retinues  of  feminine  sighs."  "  He  had  gone  to  Italy," 
according  to  our  author,  "  searching  for  the  other 
half  of  his  soul.  She  was  somewhere,  but  where? 
That  was  the  unsolved  question,  until  one  night  at  the 
house  of  the  Countess  Abbrizzi,  the  Stael  of  Italy,  he 
met  her.  Teresa  was  her  name,  the  wife  of  Count 
Guiccioli,  a  giddy  young  creature  weary  of  festivities 
and  her  middle-aged  husband;  and  Byron  was  tired  of 
woman  so  far  met.  They  saw  and  loved  each  other. 
A  mutual  glance,"  says  the  sentimental  Castellar,  "  was 
sufficient  to  make  these  two  souls  understand  each 
other  and  to  unite  them  forever.  Neither  of  them 
could  remember  afterward  wd:iich  said  the  first  w^ord." 

"  Byron  amid  his  vices  had  searched  for  Teresa 
through  all  his  dreams,  and  Teresa  through  all  her 
dreams  had  sought  for  Byron.  They  met  like  two 
shipwrecked  creatures  tossed  by  the  same  wave,  and 
without  any  hope  of  making  their  love  lawful.  She 
wedded  to  a  *  wealthy  old  miser  '  who  merely  squan- 
dered his  money  upon  her,  and  let  her  do  as  she 
pleased,  and  he  to  a  mere  intolerant  Protestant  of 
austere  and  jealous  chastity.  Consequently  they  were 
mutually  miserable.  Their  ill-assorted  marriages  were 
like  two  brazen  walls  between  two  hearts  of  fire;  yet 


232  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

they  passed  over  these  barriers  for  the  sake  of  each 
other." 

"  The  Count  quitted  Venice  and  went  with  his  wife 
to  Ravenna,"  continues  the  biographer.  ''Her  thoughts 
were  constantly  with  Byron,  and  she  naturally  was 
unable  to  bear  up  under  the  sadness  of  absence.  She 
became  alarmingly  ill,  and  Byron  hastened  to  Ravenna, 
being  summoned  to  her  side,  for  she  was  believed  to 
be  expiring.  .  .  .  On  the  eighth  of  June,  1819, 
he  was  standing  by  the  bedside  of  this  woman  who 
was  dying  of  love.  .  .  .  On  seeing  him  enter, 
Teresa  revived,  as  the  tender  violet  expands  at  the 
kiss  of  April." —  Gracious  goodness !  — "  All  her  physi- 
cians agreed  that  there  was  no  cure  for  her  malady  of 
sadness  and  languor  but  one.  The  presence  of  the 
poet  was  enough  to  bring  back  the  color  to  her  cold 
cheeks,  a  light  to  her  eyes  already  closing  in  death. 
.  That  same  day  Teresa  was  able  to  go  into 
the  garden,  and  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  poet  under 
the  virgin  branches  of  the  pines,  among  the  bay-trees 
and  myrtles  she  spoke  of  her  recollections  and  her 
hopes." 

"  The  Count  with  difficulty  resigned  himself  to  his 
part  in  society,  which,  though  tolerating  evils  of  this 
nature  always  in  Italy,  punishes  them  by  malignant 
glances  and  whispered  observations." 

According  to  Castellar,  "  Byron  spoke  of  an  elope- 
ment,"—  others  have  said  the  suggestion  came  from 
Teresa, — "  although  nobody  but  himself  could  see  the 
necessity    for   it.     And   Teresa,    the   romantic  young 


BYRON  233 

creature,  recalled  the  expedient  of  Juliet,  who,  clothed 
in  the  costume  of  the  grave  took  a  narcotic,  shut  her- 
self up  in  the  family  vault,  and  waited  until  her  lover 
should,  with  a  look  or  a  kiss  sent  through  the  grating, 
convert  the  funereal  pantheon  into  a  paradise,  the 
cold  corpse,  alias  sleeping  beauty,  into  a  living  Hebe." 

"  This  enchanting  creature,"  he  continues,  "  had 
been  but  a  few  months  out  of  a  convent,  and  was  all 
innocence."  It  is  truly  miraculous,  the  effect  produced 
on  innocence  by  convents.  "  It  is  touching,"  con- 
tinues the  susceptible  vmter,  "  to  read  the  lines  written 
by  Lord  Byron  on  a  blank  leaf  of  the  volume  of 
*  Corinne '  which  Teresa  left  in  forgetfulness  in  a 
garden  in  Bologne."  "  That  simple  love  of  the  heart," 
he  asserts,  "  compared  to  the  hyperbolic  love  men- 
tioned in  *  Corinne '  appears  as  a  lily  of  the  field  beside 
a  false  flower." 

"  She  sacrificed  everything  for  Byron,"  continues 
the  historian.  "  At  twenty  she  was  one  of  the  muses, 
and  at  sixty-eight  or  eighty  " —  here  he  seems  to  be 
in  doubt  — ''  she  was  a  wealthy  old  marchioness,  who 
flung  an  inconsiderate  book  upon  the  poet's  grave." 
That  is  the  ungallant  way,  after  all  his  romantic  senti- 
mentality, that  Castellar  refers  to  the  Guiccioli's  book, 
"  My  Recollections  of  Lord  Byron."  Leaving  Venice, 
Byron  with  la  Contessa  and  her  brother,  Count 
Gamba,  afterward  established  themselves  in  the  villa 
Rossa  at  Monte  Nero,  a  suburb  of  Leghorn,  from 
which  port  at  this  date  the  remains  of  his  "  natural  " 
daughter  Allegra,  whose  mother  was  the  daughter  of 


234  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

William  Godwin's  wife,  were  conveyed  to  England  to 
be  buried  at  Newstead  Abbey. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  liaison  with  the  fair  countess, 
afraid  of  what  her  husband  might  say  when  he  dis- 
covered the  nature  of  the  attachment, — "  for  she  was 
an  innocent  young  creature  just  out  of  a  convent,"  as 
before  quoted, —  she,  like  the  lovers  in  Rostand's  ''  Les 
'Romanesques"  proposed  to  Byron  that  he  should  fly 
with  her  to  America,  to  the  Alps,  to  some  unsuspected 
isle  in  the  far  seas  — ■  her  limitations  hardly  excluded 
the  moon.  She  even  proposed  the  idea  of  feigning 
death,  as  Castellar  tells  us,  "  like  Juliet,  and  rising, — 
like  the  dead  on  the  Day  of  Judgment, —  from  the 
tomb  to  be  forever  united!"  But  when  the  absent 
Count  returned,  they  found  that  neither  expedient  was 
needed.  Instead,  "  He  invited  Byron  to  be  his  guest, 
rented  him  a  suite  of  rooms  in  his  palace,  with  his 
wife,  it  would  seem,  thrown  into  the  bargain." 

Thus  they  lived  together,  mutually  devoted,  five 
years,  though  not  in  the  same  place.  Both  testify  that 
they  were  the  happiest  years  of  their  lives,  until  the 
accommodating  old  nobleman  at  last  mustered  up 
courage  enough  to  run  away  with  his  own  wife;  an 
amicable  conclusion,  entirely  agreeable  to  Byron,  who 
had  had  enough  of  Italy,  and  being  released,  took  his 
departure  to  Missolonghi,  to  help  the  Greeks  throw  ofT 
the  yoke  of  Turkey. 

During  his  residence  with  the  Guiccioli  her  father, 
mother,  brother,  and  husband  all  lived  happily  together 
under  the  same  roof.     After  his  separation  from  her 


BYRON  235 

and  during  the  remainder  of  his  life  he  held  her  in  the 
highest  esteem,  and  if  she  had  permitted  would  have 
left  her  the  greater  part  of  his  fortune.  She  insisted 
instead  upon  his  leaving  it  to  his  half-sister,  Mrs. 
Leigh,  and  always  refused  to  accept  money  from  the 
poet,  whose  memory  she  revered  to  the  end  of  her  octo- 
genarian days. 

A  quarter  of  a  century  after  the  poet's  death  she 
was  married  to  the  French  Marquis  de  Boissy,  who 
was  wont  proudly  to  introduce  her  as  the  "  former 
mistress  of  Lord  Byron." 

"  This  was  not  Byron's  first  experience  in  *  affairs 
of  the  heart '  in  Italy,"  says  the  Liberator.  "  Before 
this  episode  with  the  Countess  he,  still  in  quest  of  the 
other  half  of  his  soul,  was  so  wasted  and  attenuated 
that  his  friends  hardly  knew  him.  His  emaciated 
fonn  and  pallid  face  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a 
corpse  animated  only  by  the  brilliancy  of  his  fatefully 
beautiful  eyes."  Castellar  puts  him  out  of  countenance 
sometimes  but  never  puts  out  his  optics.  *'  Among 
his  passing  affections  was  a  lovely  woman  of  dark  com- 
plexion, dark  eyes,  and  sanguine  temperament,  tall  in 
stature,  and  as  robust  as  a  Venus  by  Titian.  .  .  .  She 
was  as  sensual  as  a  Bacchante,  but  capable  of  love  and 
self-sacrifice,  a  married  woman  and  the  mother  of  a 
family.  .  .  .  She  kept  a  boarding-house," — horrors! 
— "  but  was  ready  to  leave  all,"  every  boarder,  ''  for 
the  sake  of  the  poet!  "  Byron  really  ought  to  have 
had  a  chaperon,  as  we  suggested'  a  few  chapters  back. 
"  One  day  this   Amazon,   this  Lucretia   Borgia,   saw 


236  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

Byron  talking  to  her  sister-in-law,  when  she  came  up 
and  gave  her  a  blow  with  her  shut  fist  on  the 
side  of  the  head,  which  sent  her  spinning  across  the 
street  with  as  many  whirring  stars  in  her  head," 
says  the  astronomical  Castellar,  "  as  there  are 
in  the  zenith  at  midnight."  Byron  naturally  re- 
garding discretion  the  better  part  of  valor,  his  vaunted 
skill  as  a  pugilist  availed  him  nothing,  because,  we  im- 
agine, the  aggressor  was  a  lady.  Colonel  Roosevelt 
asserts  that  "  pugilists  are  men  of  keen  moral  discrimi- 
nation." However,  soon  after  this  exhibition  of  fisti- 
cuff prowess  Byron  left  the  house  and  the  heroine  and 
went  into  retirement  for  a  while  in  the  palace  Monzen- 
igo  on  the  Grand  Canal. 

We  learned  long  ago  from  another  poet  that 
"  strong  walls  do  not  a  prison  make  nor  iron  bars  a 
cage,"  and  in  this  case  that  neither  the  motes  nor 
chevaux-de-frises  of  castles  or  palaces  are  sufficient 
barriers  against  the  approaches  of  adoring  w^omen, 
especially  Italian  women,  for  "  his  stronghold  was  in- 
vaded and  became  the  scene  of  adventures  with  an- 
other, and  if  possible  more  muscular,  admirer, 
Margharetta  Congi  by  name,  the  wife  of  a  linen 
draper."  "  She  has  been  compared,"  says  the  beauty- 
loving  Spaniard,  "  with  La  Fornarina,  the  only  love  of 
Raphael,"  wails  the  liberal-minded  enthusiast.  Poor 
Raphael,  with  his  narrow  amatory  limitations,  re- 
stricted by  his  devotion  to  art  to  but  one,  with  per- 
fidious Albion  as  usual  claiming  the  lion's  share. 

*'  In  Venice  there  are  people  of  the  lower  class," 


MARGARITA     COGXI 

The  "Amazonian"  heroine  of  Castellar's  "Lord  By- 
ron"; one  of  the  "noble  Lord.'s"  many  Italian  victims. 
"Her  passions,"  says  the  extravagant  Spaniard,  "were 
as   ardent   as  a  giant  volcano   in   eruption." 


Facing   p.    236. 


BYRON  237 

continues  our  scribe,  "  who  sell  oysters  in  the  market- 
place," and  bad  oysters  at  that,  "  who  nevertheless  like 
to  have  their  ears  soothed  by  Italian  translations  of  the 
English  poets," —  what  a  mission  for  poet  and  trans- 
lator alike, — "  and  to  listen  to  the  stories  of  their 
lives!" 

*'  Margharetta  was  a  woman  of  the  people," —  he 
makes  you  afraid  of  what  is  coming  after  such  a 
declaration, — "  a  woman  who  could  neither  read  nor 
write,  yet  w^as  fond  of  poetry  and  w^as  accustomed  to 
tyrannize  over  her  family,  and  who  concealed  neither  a 
fold  of  her  soul  nor  a  throb  of  her  weak  woman's  heart 
from  the  public,"  and  consequently  did  not  trouble  her- 
self to  put  any  restraint  upon  her  actions.  ''  She  w'as 
violently  in  love  with  Byron  and  he,  not  knowing  how 
to  escape  in  his  dejection," — and  do  you  wonder?  — 
"  sought  with  much  anxiety  a  burial  place  among  the 
lovely  islands  of  the  Adriatic.  .  .  .  Floating  along  in 
his  gondola,  he  went  about  the  Venetian  archipelago 
to  choose  a  spot  to  plant  a  willow-tree  [literal  transla- 
tion], the  branches  of  which  drooping  over  the  water 
should  throw  a  shadow  after  his  suicide  over  his 
tomb."  This  is  indeed  too  sad.  "  But  as  if  to  hasten 
his  repose  in  the  dreamless  bed,  he  gave  himself  up  to 
the  study  of  different  races,  to  the  plastic  art,  to  the 
intoxicating  songs  of  the  carnival,  often  turning  away 
weary  from  a  festival." 

In  disconsolation  "  he  wandered  among  the  graves 
and  met  Margharetta,  who  at  this  time  exercises  much 
influence  over  his  life."     Now  comes  another  hysteri- 


238  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

cal  outburst.  "  The  boiling  Venetian  blood  throbbed 
in  her  veins  and  excited  her  passions.  She  was  tall, 
her  shoulders  broad,  her  arms  robust," —  doesn't  she 
make  you  nervous  ?  — "  her  face  handsome,  her  head 
vulgar.  .  .  .  She  loved  almost  to  folly,  but  was  jealous 
to  madness  .  .  .  she  caressed  Lord  Byron  and 
she  maltreated  him," —  can  you  believe  it?  "  She  met 
him  " —  among  the  tombs  — "  with  the  smile  of  an 
angel  " —  not  the  angel  of  the  resurrection  —  "  and 
struck  her  nails  into  him  with  the  ferocity  of  a  tigress. 
.  .  The  golden  pin  with  which  she  confined  her 
hair  served  her  for  a  stiletto.  .  .  .  Her  ideas 
were  no  clearer  than  those  of  a  primitive  savage.  Her 
passions  were  as  ardent  as  a  giant  volcano  in  eruption. 
Her  character  was  formed  by  the  winds  of  the  lagoons 
and  her  soul  was  opened  by  the  southern  sun."  Alas, 
poor  ghost ! 

"  In  the  palazzo  Monzenigo  he  had  collected  horses, 
bears,  peacocks,  cats,  dogs,  parrots,  monkeys,  and  all 
kinds  of  birds,  and  this  woman  like  a  wild  Eve  in  a 
strange  paradise,  angry  with  Adam,  instead  of  enticing 
him  to  eat  harvilcss  apples,  actually  got  drunk,  and  beat 
him."  Notwithstanding  her  ferocity,  however,  Byron, 
''  the  hen-pecked,"  deceived  her.  In  consequence, 
**  one  day  there  was  a  terrible  uproar,  the  parrots  ut- 
tered indescribable  noises,  the  cats  mewed,  the  dogs 
barked,  the  furniture  flew  in  pieces,  the  Venetian  mir- 
rors strewed  with  rain  of  little  crystals  the  pavement 
of  the  palace,  everything  was  in  commotion,  as  if 
struck  by  a  hurricane  or  shaken  by  an  earthquake;  it 


BYRON  239 

was  caused  by  Margharetta,  who  had  encountered  a 
rival," — another! — "and  had  fought  with  her  a  ter- 
rible battle  sustained  on  both  sides  with  vigor  and 
heroism." 

Castellar's  torrential  epithets  and  descriptions,  and 
without  any  apparent  sense  either  of  the  moral  incon- 
gruity of  it  all,  are  curiosities  in  literature  not  men- 
tioned by  D'Israeli,  and  indicate  in  a  rather  startling 
way  the  different  ethical  standards  of  Latin  and  Anglo- 
Saxon  peoples. 

The  following  humiliating  glimpse  of  Byron  which 
Miss  Frances  Power  Cobbe  permitted  me  to  copy  — 
while  I  was  her  guest  in  North  Wales  some  years 
ago  —  from  an  autographic  letter  in  her  possession, 
written  by  Mrs.  Hemans  to  Miss  Margaret  Lloyd,  ex- 
hibits an  intimation  of  his  life  in  Italy  anything  but 
pleasing  or  romantic,  and  certainly  contradicts  the  the- 
ory that  "  his  acquaintance  with  the  Guiccioli  had  an 
ennobling  influence  on  his  character." 

"  Your  affection  for  Lord  Byron,"  the  letter  begins, 
"  will  not  be  much  increased  by  the  description  I  am 
going  to  transcribe  for  you  of  his  appearance  and  man- 
ners abroad.  My  sister  is  now  at  Venice  and  has  sent 
me  the  following  sketch  of  the  '  Giaour  ' :  *  We  were 
present  at  the  governor's,  after  which  we  went  to  a 
conversazione  at  Mile.  Benoni's,  where  we  saw  Lord 
Byron,  and  now  my  curiosity  is  satisfied.  I  have  no 
wish  ever  to  see  him  again.  A  more  wretched,  de- 
praved-looking countenance  it  is  impossible  to  imag- 
ine !     His  hair  streaming  down  almost  to  his  shoulders 


240  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

and  his  whole  appearance  slovenly  and  dirty.  Still 
there  is  something  which  impels  you  to  look  at  his 
face,  although  it  inspires  you  with  aversion, — a  some- 
thing entirely  different  from  any  expression  on  any 
countenance  I  ever  beheld  before.  His  character  I 
hear  is  worse  than  ever;  dreadful  it  must  be,  since 
every  one  says  he  is  the  most  dissipated  person  in 
Italy,  exceeding  even  the  Italians  themselves.'  " 

Thus  we  present  the  estimate  in  which  the  same 
character  is  seen  by  different  nationalities  and  is 
judged  according  to  different  standards. 

In  describing  the  bombastes-furioso-delirium  of 
Senor  Castellar,  with  laughter  rather  than  tears,  I  am 
aware  even  in  the  presence  of  these  humiliating  dis- 
closures of  the  possibility  of  there  being  virtue  in  the 
vilest.  You  may  remember  Suetonius  wrote  an  inter- 
esting chapter  in  enumeration  of  the  good  deeds  of 
Nero!  Equally  possible,  we  surmise,  might  be  set 
forth  in  picturesque  fashion  the  evil  in  the  lives  of  the 
most  saintly.  The  elements  of  good  and  bad  are 
so  mixed  in  us  that  sometimes  it  is  not  so  much  what 
we  do  as  what  we  refrain  from  doing  that  counts  most 
in  the  make-up  of  character. 

"  Then  at  the  balance  let's  be  mute, 
We  never  can  adjust  it; 
What's  wrong  we  partially  may  compute, 
But  know  not  what's  resisted." 

Mr.  Nichol  —  see  his  ''  Life  of  Byron,"  published  by 
Harper  Brothers, —  says  Byron  ^'  wsls  lured  into  liaisons 
of  all  sorts  and  shades.     Some  now  acknowledged  as 


BYRON  241 

innocent  were  blazed  abroad  by  tongues  less  skilled  in 
pure  invention  than  in  distorting  truth."  And  when 
to  this  is  added  the  strange  fact  that  he  himself  sent 
anonymously  to  the  English  and  French  newspapers 
outrageous  slanders  about  himself,  entirely  without 
foundation,  merely  to  astonish  and  confuse  his  country- 
men, it  is  easy  to  understand  how  he  must  have  been 
estimated  by  his  contemporaries  who  did  not  know  him. 
His  intense  egotism  and  self-importance,  and  the 
perverse  fancy  he  had  for  falsifying  his  own  character 
and  imputing  to  himself  faults  the  most  alien  to  his 
nature,  was  pathologic,  having  to  do  with  disease.  He 
had  at  times  hallucinations  of  splendor  even  in  in- 
iquity, was  pompous  in  the  proclamation  of  moral  de- 
linquencies, and  like  the  vulgar  braggart  of  the  tavern 
and  street  corner,  but  with  more  of  an  excuse,  was  vain 
of  the  power  of  his  fascinations  over  weak  women. 
There  is  the  coarse  in  him,  of  the  man  lacking  firm  dis- 
crimination; this  also  is  pathologic.  His  alternating 
between  denunciation  and  panegyric  was  without 
manly  control.  He  was  no  respecter  of  persons,  but 
when  the  fit  was  on  denounced  and  held  up  to  ridicule 
alike  imaginary  antagonists  and  the  people  he  had 
helped.  Neither  friend  nor  foe  was  safe  from  his 
scorn.  His  life,  he  tells  us  in  ^'  Childe  Harold,"  was 
one  long  war  with  self- fought  foes  or  friends  by  him- 
self banished,  for  his  mind  had  grown  suspicion's 
sanctuary.  Getting  opinions  of  men  from  Chester- 
fi.eld,  Rochefoucauld,  and  Machiavelli,  who  were 
among  his  favorite  writers,  he  mistrusted  everybody. 


242  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

''  Never,"  says  Macaulay,  somewhat  grandilo- 
quently, "  had  any  writer  so  vast  a  command  of  the 
whole  eloquence  of  scorn,  misanthropy,  and  despair. 
From  maniac  laughter  to  piercing  lamentations  there  is 
not  a  note  of  human  anguish  of  which  he  was  not  mas- 
ter." Yet  in  spite  of  all  that  has  been  said,  compro- 
mising enough.  Heaven  knows,  the  inmates  of  his  fam- 
ily were  extremely  attached  to  him,  and  he  too  had  that 
love  for  his  tried  serv^ants, —  being  interested  in  all 
their  affairs, —  so  common  to  England.  He  was  a 
hero  to  his  household,  and  men  and  women  from  the 
humble  plebeian  to  the  proud  aristocrat,  from  com- 
monalty to  royalty,  were  at  his  feet,  while  fashionable 
and  literary  women  vied  with  one  another  in  being 
afraid  of  him  and  in  doing  him  homage.  Everybody, 
—  from  the  greatest  authors,  as  we  have  seen,  to  the 
merest  amateurs, —  rushed  into  print  about  him.  Most 
persons  admired  him;  some  too  were  horrified  by  his 
reported  wickedness.  The  poet-laureate,  Robert 
Southey,  seriously  looked  upon  him  as  "  wickedness 
incarnate,"  the  Countess  Guiccioli  said  he  was  an 
"  archangel,"  Carlyle  called  him  a  "  sulky  dandy,"  and 
w^hile  Goethe  held  him  in  high  esteem  as  a  man,  and 
"  the  greatest  poet  since  Shakespeare,"  his  terrified 
wife  thought  him  a  lunatic. 

Byron  himself  would  seem  to  have  wished  to  be  con- 
sidered the  most  notorious  man  of  the  century.  He 
took  particular  pains,  as  we  have  seen,  to  make  his  rep- 
utation as  bad  as  possible,  so  that  what  with  his  own 
romancing  and  the  detraction  of  so  many  people,  his 


BYRON  243 

reported  iniquities  are  beyond  human  capacity  and 
credibility.  He  even  went  to  the  extent,  as  we  have 
seen,  of  sending  slanderous  letters  about  himself  to 
foreign  papers,  telling  of  outrages  he  had  never  com- 
mitted, just  for  the  fun  of  seeing  how  his  friends 
would  be  shocked  when  reading  them  at  home.  These 
illustrations  of  inventive  malignancy,  written  not  about 
someone  else,  but  himself,  exhibit  a  perversion  of 
egotism  unparalleled,  and  surely  imply,  if  not  an  un- 
balanced mind,  at  least  lack  of  self-respecting  dignity. 
Of  his  religion  —  and  everybody  has  a  religion,  and 
nothing  in  his  life  reveals  his  character  and  aspirations 
or  the  lack  of  them  as  much  as  does  his  attitude  toward 
the  invisible :  you  cannot  know  a  man  without  knowing 
his  beliefs  —  it  would  be  difficult  to  define  just  what  it 
was.  He  did  not  deny  Christianity  except  in  his  con- 
duct. On  a  certain  occasion  he  writes  to  Moore,  **  I 
cannot  understand  what  people  mean  by  calling  me 
irreligious."  Then  he  delivers  himself  of  this  bit  of 
boisterous  protest  against  painting  and  collaterally 
against  saints  and  churches,  which  you  would  think 
would  enable  him  to  understand  why  he  was  said  to 
be  irreligious : 

"  You  must  recollect  that  I  know  nothing  of 
painting,  and  that  I  detest  it,  unless  it  reminds  me 
of  something  I  have  seen  or  think  it  possible  to  see ; 
for  which  reason  I  spit  upon  and  abhor  all  saints  and 
subjects  of  one-half  the  impostures  I  see  in  the 
churches  and  palaces,  and  when  in  Flanders  I  never 
was  so  disappointed  in  my  life," — and  no  wonder, — 


244  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

"  as  with  Rubens  and  his  eternal  wives  and  infernal 
glare  of  color,  and  in  Spain  I  did  not  think  much  more 
of  Murillo  and  Velasquez." 

While  corresponding  with  an  amiable  clergyman  in- 
terested in  the  salvation  of  his  soul,  he  writes :  "  I 
will  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  immortality.  We 
are  miserable  enough  in  this  life  without  the  absurdity 
of  speculating  on  another.  And  as  for  conduct  I  will 
bring  ten  Mussulmans  who  shall  shame  you  all  in  good- 
will to  men  and  prayer  to  God."  This  recalls  an  inci- 
dent in  the  life  of  Leo  X,  the  son  of  Lorenzo  de  Medici, 
who  when  a  boy  of  thirteen  was  created  a  cardinal 
by  Innocent  VIII,  and  at  thirty-six  years  became  Pope. 
On  a  certain  occasion,  while  hearing  a  discussion  as  to 
the  immortality  or  mortality  of  the  soul,  he  took  the 
latter  side,  "  for,"  said  he,  "  it  would  be  terrible  to  be- 
lieve in  a  future  state.  Conscience  is  an  evil  beast 
who  arms  man  against  himself."  But  to  return  to 
Byron.  "  I  am  no  bigot  to  infidelity,  either,"  he 
writes,  *'  and  certainly  did  not  expect  that  because  I 
doubted  the  immortality  of  the  soul  I  should  be 
charged  with  denying  the  existence  of  God."  In  the 
same  strain,  in  a  passage  from  another  letter,  he  con- 
cludes that  '*  man's  pretensions  to  eternity  were  merely 
an  expression  and  illustration  of  his  exaggerated 
egotism  and  vanity."  Whether  this  familiar  reflection 
on  man's  vanity  even  originated  with  Byron  or  not  I  do 
not  know,  but  this  I  know,  that  cavilers  against  a 
future  state  have  repeated  it  often  since  as  if  it  were 
original    with   themselves.     It    seems   incredible   that 


BYRON  245 

a  person  of  Byron's  ability,  the  observed  of  all  ob- 
servers, a  man  of  such  commanding  position  in  Eng- 
land, should  have  been  the  victim  of  such  vulgar 
water-carrier  infamies  in  Italy  as  recorded  by  Sefior 
Castellar. 

In  connection  with  such  philandering,  there  is  still 
another  intimacy  recorded  in  his  life,  which  to  ignore 
would  be  like  writing  a  life  of  Goethe  without  men- 
tioning Frederica  Priov,  of  Sessenheim,  or  Bettina  von 
Arnim,  of  the  house  of  Brentano.  We  allude  to  the 
attachment  between  him  and  the  emotional,  half-de- 
mented Bacchante,  Lady  Caroline  Lamb,  grand- 
daughter of  the  first  Earl  Spencer  and  wife  of  Lord 
Melbourne.  In  her  nineteenth  year  this  romantic 
daughter  of  the  sun  married  William  Lamb,  afterward 
Lord  Melbourne,  and  became  and  remained  a  reigning 
belle  for  some  years  afterward,  in  spite  of  her  domes- 
tic life's  having  been  marred  by  occasional  eccentrici- 
ties that  perhaps  might  be  laid  to  the  charge  of  insan- 
ity rather  than  depravity. 

Because  of  the  partiality  of  the  Countess  of  Blessing- 
ton  for  Byron,  Lady  Caroline  desired  an  introduc- 
tion, and  after  meeting  him  recorded  in  her  diary, 
*'  Mad,  bad,  and  dangerous."  But  when  afterward  he 
called  at  Melbourne  house,  on  his  being  announced, 
"  she  flew  to  her  toilet  table,  to  beautify  herself  for  his 
conquest."  And  judging  from  her  portrait,  poor 
thing,  she  very  much  needed  the  foreign  aid  of  orna- 
ment to  make  her  even  passable. 

Byron  fell  a  willing  victim  to  her  blandishments. 


246  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

Likely  the  splendidly  equipped  establishment, —  for  he 
never  had  a  home  of  his  own,  and  had  only,  as  it  were, 
seen  the  apples  in  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  over 
the  wall  of  other  homes, —  and  the  prominent  social 
position  of  the  lady  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  it,  for  in 
spite  of  the  glowing  panegyric  of  the  always  too  leni- 
ent Castellar,  he  was  often  guilty  himself  of  the  cad- 
dishness  he  condemned  in  others.  However,  like  a 
pair  of  paraquets  in  a  gilded  cage,  they  became  closely 
intimate  and  inseparable,  and  their  whisperings  and 
confidences  and  transgressions  of  good  social  usages 
became  the  subject  of  general  gossip. 

Like  Swift,  Stella,  and  Vanessa,  they  exchanged 
pseudonyms  with  each  other.  Byron  became  "  Con- 
rad," after  the  hero  of  his  ''  Corsair," — '*  the  man  of 
one  virtue  and  a  thousand  crimes," — and  she,  "  Me- 
dora,"  the  disloyal  wife  of  the  same  romance.  And 
thus  they  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  following  year 
in  each  other's  company.  "  Conrad  "  controlled  the 
life  of  the  submissive  "  Medora  "  as  Goethe  did  that 
of  his  lady  correspondents.  Like  Othello  with  Desde- 
mona,  he  beguiled  her  with  a  record  of  his  adventures, 
which  likely  he  never  had,  until  the  lady  imagined 
him  a  superlative  hero  and  after  her  own  heart.  He 
detailed,  we  may  suppose,  with  wonted  vigor  and  ex- 
aggeration the  story  of  his  life,  from  year  to  year,  from 
boyish  days  to  the  blessed  moment  he  met  her  in  whom 
his  soul  delighted.  He  told  her,  we  may  imagine,  but 
with  a  less  noble  purpose  than  his  Moorish  predecessor, 
of  disastrous  chances,  of  moving  accidents  of  flood  and 


Till-:     RT.     IK  A.     I.ADV     CAROI.IXl 


LAMi; 


'I'iie  "eccentric"  Lady  Caroline  Lamb, — the  ^Irs. 
I'clix  Lorraine  of  "\'ivian  Gray,"  the  Lady  Monteagle 
of  'A'enetia."  figuring  also  in  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward's 
'"William  Ashe," — daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Bessbor- 
ough,  the  wife  of  the  amiable  William  Lamb,  afterward 
Lord  JMelbourne.  She  infatuated  Byron  for  a  season. 
W^hen  he  finally  cast  her  off  she  became  his  most  whim- 
sical   enemy. 


Facing  Z'.   24G. 


BYRON  247 

field,  of  hair-breadth  'scapes  i'  the  imminent  deadly 
breach,  of  being  taken  by  the  insolent  foe  and  sold 
into  slavery, —  such  superficial  semblances  of  general 
probabilities  were  the  pursued  process, — until  he  finally 
had  obtained  such  a  position  of  command,  both  of  the 
lady  and  of  the  mansion,  that  he  did  everything  in  the 
premises  but  pay  the  bills.  He  presided  over  the  invi- 
tations of  guests,  and  gave  imperial  rules  for  the  man- 
agement of  the  establishment. 

"  Medora,"  the  incorrigible  but  then  the  affable,  by 
way  of  generous  reciprocation  proclaimed  in  the  ear 
of  a  waiting  universe  that  they  were  "  affinities !  " 
The  word  came  into  vogue  about  that  time,  due,  we 
conjecture,  to  the  title  of  one  of  Goethe's  novels,  Die 
W ahlvervandlshaftcn,  which  had  then  been  translated 
into  English  under  the  title  of  ''  Elective  Affinities." 

It  started,  it  might  be  said,  the  modern  rage  for  di- 
vorce among  the  addled  community.  Yet  Goethe's 
purpose,  judging  by  what  he  said  to  Eckermann  about 
it  in  the  "  Gesprache,"  was  to  point  out  rather  the  un- 
wisdom of  divorce  on  account  of  inclination  or  incom- 
patibility of  temper,  since  no  two  persons  ever  had 
thought  or  ever  could  think  alike,  and  that  for  this, 
sympathetic  tolerance  and  mutual  respect  rather  than 
separation  were  the  panaceas. 

Thus  "  Medora,"  as  we  have  said,  generously  recip- 
rocating with  "  Conrad  "  for  relieving  her  husband  of 
the  care  of  his  wife  and  establishment,  publicly  de- 
clared herself  his  affinity  and  offered  him  her  jewels. 
The  jewels  he  declined.     This,  it  seems,  was  the  popu- 


248  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

lar  mode  for  all  heroines  of  romance  at  that  period. 

This  went  on  ad  nauseam  until  Byron's  appetite 
sickened  and  so  died.  The  attachment  had  to  come  to 
an  end.  Likely  there  were  other  attractions.  Besides 
"  Conrad,"  with  all  his  assurance,  became  alarmed  at 
the  emotional  intensity  of  "  Medora's  "  preference  and 
also  weary  of  her  excessive  talk  about  herself  —  for 
she  too  was  a  literary  person  —  when  he  wanted  to 
talk  about  himself.  Because  of  the  jarring  thus  of 
their  mutual  egotisms,  and  also,  as  hinted,  because  of 
the  excessive  proclamations  of  their  intimacy,  he  con- 
trived to  discover  a  loophole  of  escape  by  having  her 
sent  back  to  Erin.  No  matter  how  dainty  and  confid- 
ing the  victim  that  came  within  the  enchanted  or  ma- 
lign circle  of  his  influence, —  you  may  use  either, —  she 
sooner  or  later  emerged  crumpled  and  disgraced. 

The  poor  lady  returned  from  her  exile  to  her  native 
land  not  only  uncured  but  rather,  like  the  man 
possessed  of  the  devil,  with  the  last  state  worse  than 
the  first.  "  For  a  peat  that's  half  burned  will  soon 
kindle  again."  She  beset  him  with  renewed  advances, 
became  so  importunate  for  the  old  friendliness  that  she 
would  not  take  No  for  an  answer,  and  notwithstand- 
ing commands  given  to  the  servants  to  the  contrary, 
to  his  horror  and  astonishment  she  penetrated  stealth- 
ily to  his  apartments  and  presented  herself  before  him 
disguised  in  the  garb  of  a  page ! 

On  another  occasion  on  being  rebuffed,  she  threat- 
ened to  stab  herself  with  a  pair  of  scissors  and  bleed  to 
death    in    his    presence.     Everything    else    failing   to 


BYRON  249 

cause  his  lordship  to  relent,  she  went  to  the  other  ex- 
treme and  offered  gifts  to  anyone  who  would  put  an 
end  to  him.  She  announced  publicly  the  burning  of 
his  effigy  and  his  letters, —  the  letters !  that  was  a 
pity, —  then  became  clamorous  for  a  lock  of  his  hair. 
She  both  denounced  and  idolized  him  as  the  man 
whom  she  called  her  '^  betrayer  " ;  yet  it  is  said  by  cer- 
tain apologists  that  Byron  was  innocent  in  the  matter 
and  did  what  he  did  in  the  way  of  engrossing  her  at- 
tention unwittingly. 

During  ail  this  —  can  the  reader  imagine  the  effect 
it  must  have  produced  on  the  community,  and  indeed 
the  world,  emanating  from  the  most  exclusive  aristoc- 
racy of  Europe?  —  her  apathetic  but  none  the  less  per- 
plexed husband,  whose  duty  it  was  to  take  care  of  his 
wife  as  well  as  the  state,  wickedly,  we  say,  regarded  it 
all  as  the  harmless  infatuation  of  a  school  girl  for  a 
new  dress,  laughed  at  the  hero-worship  of  the  weak 
wife  with  her  irresolute,  retreating  chin  and  general 
lack  of  discrimination. 

Finally,  assuming  an  attitude  of  immovable  hostility, 
she  made  him  the  wicked  hero  of  her  new  novel, 
"  Glenarvon,"  in  which  she  embroidered  in  designs  of 
her  own  fantastic  invention  the  not  too  chaste  texture 
of  his  lordship's  original  fabric. 

The  last  scene  of  all  that  ends  this  strange  eventful 
history  was  when  years  afterward  her  coach  was 
stopped  by  a  long  line  of  vehicles  following  a  plumed 
hearse  and  ending  in  a  concourse  of  silent  mourners 
stretching  out  into  invisibility.     "  Whose   funeral   is 


250  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

that?"  she  asks.  ''Lord  Byron's  from  Greece,"  was 
the  reply.  "  Being  refused  burial  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  he  is  being  taken  for  interment  to  the  village 
church  of  Hackenall,  Torkard,  near  Newstead." 

She  died  a  few  months  after  this  pathetic  episode, 
the  subject  of  her  dying  bequest  being  Byron's  min- 
iature, which  she  always  kept  by  her,  and  which  she 
left  to  her  dear  friend,  Lady  Morgan,  as  if  she,  too, 
like  poor  Barbara,  sighing  under  her  sycamore,  ut- 
tered as  her  swan  song,  "  Let  nobody  blame  him,  his 
scorn  I  approve,  sing  willow,  willow,  willow." 

Mrs.  Humphry  Ward  has  revived  interest  in  Caro- 
line Lamb,  introducing  her  into  one  of  her  late  novels, 
"  The  Marriage  of  William  Ashe,"  under  the  name  of 
Mary  Ashe. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

The  following  specimens  of  what  might  be  called 
the  wit,  wisdom,  and  whimsicalities  of  Lord  Byron, 
showing  the  working  of  his  mind  under  ordinary  prose 
circumstances,  in  confirmation  of  the  theory  that  it  was 
not  impaired  by  his  malady,  I  have  gathered  at  hap- 
hazard and  set  down  without  arrangement  from  spon- 
taneous utterances,  "  Conversations  "  with  various  per- 
sons, and  also  from  his  collected  letters  and  other 
prose  writing. 

Like  Will  Honeycomb  in  the  "  Spectator,"  the  noble 
lord  had  "  a  vast  deal  of  fire  in  his  conversation,"  and 
the  reader  will  see  from  these  illustrations  of  his  ''  in- 
finite variety  "  what  a  master  of  stately  prose  he  might 
have  been,  if  he  had  wished  it.  Yet  Goethe,  who  did 
not  know  his  prose,  with  all  his  admiration  for  Byron, 
said  that  "  he  was  only  great  as  a  poet,  that  when  he 
came  to  reflect  he  was  a  child." 

He  had  such  a  keen  sense  of  the  harmonious  possibil- 
ities of  language  that  even  when  his  compositions  were 
not  profound  they  were  at  least  rhythmical.  Yet  the 
only  real  music  he  was  capable  of  comprehending  was 
the  singing  of  Tom  Moore,  and  it  would  seem  that  it 
was  the  language  and  diction,  "  the  syllabling  of  the 
words,"  to  borrow  a  phrase  from  N.  P.  Willis,  rather 
than  the  music,  that  appealed  to  him  most.     For  he  no 

251 


252  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

more  had  really  an  ear  for  music  —  nor  for  rhetoric 
either  —  than  he  had  an  eye  for  art,  and  a  keen  ob- 
server might  discover  quite  a  number  of  weeds  among 
his  flowers  of  speech. 

We  will  begin  then  with  the  following  *'  taste  of  his 
quality." 

"  To  let  a  person  see  that  you  have  discovered  his 
faults,"  he  says,  "  is  to  make  him  an  enemy  for  life/' 
Speaking  of  friends,  he  cynically  asserted,  "  The  only 
truths  your  friends  tell  you  are  your  faults,  and  the 
only  thing  they  give  you  is  advice." 

As  an  illustration  of  the  morbid  side  of  his  mind  — 
most  persons  have  a  morbid  side,  without  the  foreign 
aid  of  epilepsy  —  in  a  familiar  conversation  with  a 
fair  friend  he  averred :  "  When  I  have  looked  on 
some  face  I  love,  imagination  has  often  figured  the 
changes  that  death  must  one  day  produce  on  it, —  the 
worm  rioting  on  lips  now  smiling,  the  features  and 
hues  of  health  changed  to  the  livid  and  ghastly  tints 
of  putrefaction, —  and  the  image  conjured  up  by  my 
fancy  has  left  an  impression  for  hours  that  the  actual 
presence  of  the  object,  in  all  its  bloom  of  health,  has 
not  been  able  to  banish.  This  is  one  of  my  pleasures 
of  the  imagination." 

How  strangely  persistent  the  survival  of  this  grue- 
some yet  fallacious  association  of  death  and  worms, 
this  projecting  of  the  mythologic  and  past  into  the 
actual  and  present,  as  if  it  were  still  true.  It  was  in 
the  long  ago,  when  numbers  of  dead  were  cast  into 
one  pit,  inadequately  covered,  or  exposed  after  battle 


BYRON  '       253 

or  during  the  plague,  because  of  the  inability  or  in- 
difference or  ignorance  of  the  barbarous  past,  that  the 
exposed  bodies  were  rendered  accessible  as  hatching 
places  for  the  eggs  of  the  pestiferous  fly,  which,  be- 
cause of  the  warmth  engendered  by  putrefaction,  were 
transformed  into  maggots  later  on.  This  sight  must 
have  been  a  familiar  one  in  the  old  days,  but  it  is  not 
true  now.  With  the  science  of  asepsis  applied  to 
mortality,  the  idea  of  the  body's  becoming  food  for 
worms  as  in  the  days  of  Job, — ''  And  though  after  my 
skin  worms  destroy  this  body,'' — may  be  relegated  to 
the  limbo  of  abolished  conditions. 

Of  his  half-sister  Augusta,  Mrs.  Leigh, —  the  subject 
of  Mrs.  Stowe's  unnecessary  and  unfortunate  book, 
*'  Lady  Byron  Vindicated," —  his  solitary  instance  of 
constant  devotion,  he  said :  "  To  me  she  was  in  the 
hour  of  need  as  a  tower  of  strength.  She  knew^  all 
my  weaknesses,  had  love  enough  to  bear  wath  them. 
She  was  the  most  thoughtful  person  I  ever  knew,  and 
was  my  only  source  of  consolation  in  the  trouble  con- 
nected with  the  misunderstanding  with  my  wife.  She 
never  forsook  me." 

He  also  made  the  following  confession  about  Lady 
Byron,  to  whom  he  was  always  attached,  for  like  the 
sailor  in  the  comic  opera,  notwithstanding  promiscu- 
ous alliances  "  his  'art  was  true  to  Poll."  He  said  he 
was  not  sincere  in  his  implied  censures  of  her,  and 
that  he  was  sorry  he  had  written  them,  *'  they  were 
done  just  to  spite  and  vex  her."  Among  other  things 
he  called  her  in  his  haste,  "  the  moral  Clytemnestra  of 


254  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

her  lord."     He  also  accused  her  of  deceit,  averments 
incompatible,  equivocations. 


"And  thoughts  which  dwell  in  Janus'  spirits, 
The  significant  eye  which  learns  to  lie  with  silence  — 
The  pretext  of  prudence   with  advantages  annexed, 
Acquiescence  in  all  things  which  tend,  no  matter  how,  to  the 

desired  end. 
All  found  a  place  in  thy  philosophy." 

Yet  he  said  of  this  same  wife:  "I  do  not  believe 
there  ever  was  a  brighter,  kinder,  more  amiable  or 
agreeable  being  than  Lady  Byron.  I  never  had,  or 
can  have,  any  reproach  to  make  against  her  when  with 
me."  Again  he  said,  in  all  soberness,  showing  how 
matrimonially  obtuse  he  was :  "  I  would  willingly  re- 
new my  marriage  with  her  on  a  lease  of  twenty 
years!"  Twenty  years?  What  incredible  confi- 
dence ! 

Quite  a  scheme,  though,  marriage  for  a  limited 
period,  to  be  renewed,  we  suppose,  at  the  end  of  the 
contract.  Yet  this  shows  that  the  proposition  of  one 
of  our  western  countrymen  lately  on  the  same  sub- 
ject,— •'  trial  or  experimental  marriages," —  did  not 
have  even  the  merit  of  originality. 

"  Contact  with  other  people "  Byron  called  "  the 
whetstone  that  sharpened  wit."  Speaking  of  ladies 
of  uncertain  age,  he  ungallantly  asserted,  "  Women 
hovering  between  heaven  and  earth,  like  Mahomet's 
coffin,  that  is  to  say,  floating  between  maturity  and  old 
age,  are  always  bores."     He  hurriedly  comes  to  the 


BYRON  255 

rescue  of  himself,  however,  and  continues,  "  I  have 
known,  though,  a  few  delightful  exceptions."  Then 
he  spoke  of  the  "  autumnal  charms  "  of  a  certain  lady, 
who  reminded  him  of  "  a  landscape  by  Claude  Lor- 
rain,  her  beauty  enhanced  by  her  setting  sun,  whose 
last  dying  beams  threw  a  radiance  around  her." 

"  Age,"  he  declared,  "  is  beautiful  when  no  attempt 
is  made  to  modernize  it.  It  is  like  a  ruin  reminding 
you  of  romance,  unless  restored."  "  What  a  pity  that 
of  all  flowers  none  fade  so  soon  as  beauty." 

How  limited,  after  all,  must  have  been  his  experi- 
ences! Who  has  not  known  women  the  complete 
beauty  of  whose  appearance  has  not  come  until  after 
fifty  or  sixty?  The  most  beautiful  women  we  ever 
have  known  are  now  over  sixty  years  old  and  their 
characters  grow  more  beautiful  every  day. 

His  views  of  Shakespeare  are  as  extreme  in  their 
absurdity  as  Voltaire's,  but  not  as  excusable,  because 
he  could  read  English.  "  Shakespeare,"  he  said, 
"  owed  one-half  of  his  popularity  to  his  low  origin 
.  .  .  and  the  other  half  to  the  remoteness  of  the 
time  in  which  he  wrote  from  our  day.  .  .  .  All 
his  vulgarisms  are  attributed  to  the  circumstances  of 
his  birth  and  breeding,  depriving  him  of  a  good  educa- 
tion. .  .  .  With  two  such  excuses,  lack  of  educa- 
tion and  remoteness  of  time,  any  writer  may  pass  mus- 
ter, and  when  to  these  is  added  the  being  a  sturdy  hind 
of  low  degree,  which  to  three  parts  of  the  commonalty 
of  England  has  a  peculiar  attraction,  one  ceases  to 
wonder  at  his  supposed  popularity.     I  say  supposed 


256  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

popularity,  for  who  now  goes  to  see  his  plays,  and  who, 
except  country  parsons  or  mouthing  stage-struck  the- 
atrical amateurs,  reads  them  ?  " 

Yet  with  a  noble  disregard  of  that  "  consistency  " 
which  is  said  to  be  "  the  vice  of  little  minds  "  his  lord- 
ship does  not  hesitate  to  quote  Shakespeare  familiarly 
and  to  plagiarize  from  him  frequently,  and  not  only 
from  him  but  from  everybody  else.  Maybe  in  his 
case,  however,  it  is  not  plagiarism,  for  we  might  say 
of  Byron  what  Dry  den  said  of  Ben  Jonson,  "  He  in- 
vades authors  like  a  monarch,  and  what  would  be  theft 
in  other  poets  is  only  victory  in  him." 

But  in  spite  of  this,  yet  in  keeping  with  the  moral 
obliquity  of  his  character,  few  persons  knew  Shakes- 
peare better  than  Byron.  In  one  canto  of  "  Don  Juan  '* 
we  counted  forty-two  allusions  to  things  in  Shakes- 
peare, and  there  may  have  been  others  that  we  failed  to 
recognize.  "  We  often  find  him  repeating  long  pas- 
sages from  Shakespeare  to  his  friends,"  says  the 
Countess  of  Blessington,  "  with  a  harmonious  voice 
and  elegant  pronunciation  that  would  have  made  him 
distinguished  as  an  actor  or  orator." 

In  the  same  breath  in  which  he  slanders  Shakes- 
peare he  declares  "  Pope  the  greatest  of  modern  poets 
and  a  philosopher  as  well  as  poet." 

Byron,  it  would  seem,  had  but  two  ambitions :  one, 
to  be  thought  the  greatest  poet  of  his  day;  the  other,  a 
nobleman  and  a  man  of  fashion  who  could  have  at- 
tained distinction  without  the  aid  of  poetry.  He  had 
in  everything  all  the  vanity  of  a  certain  type  of  neu- 


BYRON  257 

rotic,  and  liked  to  be  considered  *'  a  poet  among  noble- 
men, and  a  nobleman  among  poets." 

He  did  not  care  for  clergymen,  and  took  a  vulgar 
pleasure  in  irreverences  of  speech  in  their  presence, 
merely  to  annoy  them.  Medical  men  were  also  ob- 
jects of  constant  derision.  Yet  it  was  to  a  clerical 
friend  that  he  gave  outright  one  thousand  pounds  with 
which  to  cancel  debts  that  he  had  not  contracted,  but 
which  he  had  inherited,  and  which  annoyed  him  a  great 
deal;  and  physicians,  notwithstanding  his  opposition, 
were  among  his  best  friends. 

"  I  have  as  little  faith  in  medicine  as  Napoleon  had," 
he  declared,  "  because  the  men  I  have  met  Vv'ho  practice 
it  are  so  deficient  in  ability."  In  18 10  he  was  seized 
with  a  severe  fever  in  the  ^lorea  and  his  life  was 
saved,  he  asserted,  by  his  Albanian  followers'  frighten- 
ing away  the  doctors !  Yet  we  learn  from  Madden, 
Moore,  Dallas,  Blessington,  Medwyn,  Hobhouse,  Tre- 
lawny,  and  others  that  he  was  continually  drugging 
himself.  He  had,  as  it  would  seem,  as  much  faith  in 
empiric  medicine  as  Lord  Bacon  had  in  witches,  or  as 
Csesar  had  in  prognostications  based  upon  the  reeking 
entrails  of  animals. 

"  I  should  hold  a  woman  capable  of  laughing  at 
sentiment  as  I  should  and  do  a  woman  who  has  no 
religion.  Much  as  I  dislike  bigotry  I  think  it  a  thou- 
sand times  more  pardonable  than  irreligion.  There  is 
something  unfeminine  in  the  want  of  religion  that 
takes  off  the  peculiar  charm  of  woman." 

In  talking  of  authorship  he  said :     ''  A  successful 


258  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

book  makes  a  man  a  wretch  for  life.  It  engenders  in 
him  a  thirst  for  notoriety  and  praise,  and  precludes  the 
possibility  of  repose."  Quoting  from  Voltaire,  he 
said,  "  The  fate  of  a  literary  man  is  like  a  flying  fish: 
if  he  dives  in  the  water  the  fish  devour  him,  and  if  he 
rises  in  the  air  he  is  attacked  by  the  birds."  This,  by 
the  way,  is  not  so  true  now  as  it  was  then,  when  it  was 
almost  as  much  as  a  man's  life  was  worth  to  write  a 
book.  In  those  days  reviewers  were  savages  thirsting 
for  blood,  and  every  new  writer  was  regarded  as  a 
public  enemy. 

"  Friends,"  he  said,  "  are  like  diamonds :  all  wish  to 
possess  them  but  few  are  willing  to  pay  the  price." 

On  being  rebuked  because  of  the  vehement  abuse  of 
a  friend,  he  replied  that  he  was  "  only  deterred  from 
abusing  him  more  severely  by  the  fear  of  being  in- 
dicted under  the  act  for  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to 
animals." 

Again,  he  said :  "  A  person  who  repeats  to  a 
friend  an  offensive  observation,  uttered  when  he  is 
absent,  is  much  more  blamable  than  the  person  who 
first  uttered  it.  Of  course  when  said  against  a  man's 
honor  it  is  different.  Then  the  friend  should  be  de- 
fended and  the  offensive  remark,  if  thought  best,  re- 
peated." 

Speaking  of  Sheridan,  he  said :  "  There  is  much 
more  folly  than  vice  in  the  world.  My  feelings  were 
never  more  excited  than  when  writing  the  '  Monody 
on  Sheridan.'  Poor  Sherry!  What  a  mind  in  him 
was  overthrown  by  poverty." 


BYRON  259 

"  When  the  loud  cry  of  trampled  Hindoostan 
Arose  to  heaven  in  her  appeal  to  man, 
His  was  the  thunder, —  his  the  avenging  rod, 
The  wrath, —  the  delegated  voice  of  God, 
Which  shook  the  nations,  through  his   lips,  and  blazed 
Till  vanquished  senates  trembled  as  they  praised." 


Of  himself  he  thought  his  misshapen  foot  the  great- 
est calamity,  and  that  it  was  difficult  to  express  the 
corroding  bitterness  that  deformity  engendered  in  the 
mind.  He  believed  that  where  malformation  existed 
in  any  part  of  the  body  it  always  showed  itself  in  the 
face,  however  handsome  the  face  might  be.  And  he 
also  believed  that  nothing  so  completely  demoralized  a 
man  as  the  certainty  that  he  had  lost  the  sympathy  of 
his  fellow-creatures.  "  It  breaks  the  last  tie  that  unites 
him  to  humanity,  and  renders  him  reckless  and  ir- 
reclaimable." 

He  called  *'  goodness  the  best  cosmetic,"  and  asserted 
of  his  own  productions  that  he  could  not  read  any  one 
of  them  without  detecting  in  it  a  thousand  faults. 
Their  popularity  in  England,  he  said,  indicated  a  lack 
of  literary  judgment,  and  he  also  said  that  the  people 
of  the  continent  who  admired  even  the  translations, 
which  were  always  worse  than  the  originals,  were  void 
of  all  judgment. 

He  met  a  few  Irishmen  and  highly  esteemed  some  of 
them:  as,  for  example,  Moore,  Curran,  Sheridan,  and 
the  Earl  of  Blessington.  He  did  not  like  Wellington 
though,  chiefly,  we  think,  because  he  had  the  audacity 
to   defeat  a  greater  man, —  Napoleon.     He   thought 


26o  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

that  "  an  Irishman, —  that  is,  a  clever  Irishman, —  ed- 
ucated in  Scotland,  would  be  perfection.  The  Scotch 
professors  would  prune  down  his  overluxuriant  shoots 
of  imagination  and  strengthen  his  reason.  Until  that 
was  done  he  would  continue  to  be  a  slave  to  one  thing 
or  another." 

"  The  Scotch,"  he  said,  "  are  a  very  superior  race  of 
people,  with  intellects  more  acute  than  the  English. 
They  are  better  educated  and  make  better  men  of  af- 
fairs." 

Of  English  women  he  said:  "You  may  make  an 
English  woman,  indeed  nature  does  this,  the  best  wife 
and  mother  in  the  world,  you  may  make  her  a  heroine, 
but  nothing  can  make  her  a  genuine  woman  of  fash- 
ion. Thoroughbred  English  gentlewomen  are  the  most 
distinguished  and  ladylike  creatures  imaginable. 
Naturally  mild  and  dignified,  they  are  formed  to  be 
placed  at  the  head  of  our  patrician  establishments ;  but 
when  they  quit  their  congenial  spheres  to  enact  the  part 
of  leaders  of  fashion,  they  bungle  sadly.  Their  gaiety 
degenerates  into  levity,  their  hauteur  into  incivility, 
their  fashionable  ease  and  nonchalance  into  brusquerie, 
.  and  all  this  because  they  will  perform  parts  in 
the  comedy  of  life  for  which  nature  has  not  formed 
them,  neglecting  their  own  dignified  character." 

Byron, —  like  Solomon,  surnamed  "  The  Wise,"  why 
we  never  knew,  unless  it  came  as  a  result  of  his  mis- 
takes and  at  the  conclusion  too  of  an  adventurous  ca- 
reer, disgraced  as  it  was  all  the  way  through  by  evil  at- 
tachments,—  declared  that  there  was  no  happiness  out- 


BYRON  261 

side  of  matrimony,  re-echoing  thus  the  advice  of  the 
polygamous  son  of  David.  ''  Live  joyfully  with  the 
wife  whom  thou  lovest  all  the  days  of  the  life  of  thy 
vanity,  for  this  is  thy  portion  in  this  life," —  an  impor- 
tant *'  tip  "  this,  learned  as  it  was  by  both  in  the  race- 
course of  life,  that  bickering  school  of  bitter  but  illumi- 
nating experience. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

Byron  always  dwelt  with  complacency  on  the  advan- 
tage of  rank,  and  claimed  that  "  people  of  family  are 
superior,  and  always  to  be  recognized  by  a  certain  air 
and  the  smallness  of  their  hands."  He  evidently  did 
not  agree  with  Burns  that  rank  was  the  guinea  stamp 
and  mah  was  the  gold,  or  with  his  favorite  Pope  that 
"  worth  makes  the  man,  the  want  of  it  the  fellow," 
or  with  Tennyson  that  "  it  is  only  noble  to  be  good, 
true  hearts  are  more  than  coronets  and  simple  faith 
than  Norman  blood." 

To  be  well  bom  and  bred  cannot  be  overpraised. 
We  expect  more,  other  things  being  equal,  from  people 
with  pedigrees  and  family  portraits  by  Gainsborough 
and  Reynolds  rather  than  daguerreotypes,  and  are 
usually  not  disappointed.  Nevertheless,  it  is  the  stimu- 
lation that  comes  from  a  grapple  with  difficulties, 
rather  than  a  family  tree  and  quarterings,  that  develop 
the  manly  in  man  and  bring  to  the  fore  the  con- 
quering qualities. 

"  Such  a  book,"  he  said,  "  as  Robertson's  *  Charles 
the  Fifth,'  is  a  railroad  to  learning,  while  other  his- 
tories are  the  neglected  old  turnpikes  that  deter  us 
from  making  the  trip." 

"  The  circumstances  of  a  man's  yielding  to  poetry," 
he  assured  a  correspondent,  "  is  a  voucher  that  he  is  no 

262 


BYRON  263 

longer  of  sound  mind.  We  of  the  craft  are  all  crazy, 
and  I  more  than  the  rest.  Lady  Byron,  dear,  sensible 
soul,  not  only  thought  me  mad,  but  tried  to  make  oth- 
ers believe  it.  You  will  believe  me  what  I  sometimes 
believe  myself, —  mad." 

Anent  the  above :  To  see  a  man  in  a  fit  of  passion 
throw  a  favorite  gold  watch  into  the  fire  and  pound 
it  to  atoms  with  a  poker  is  enough  to  make  any  w^oman 
think  him  mad.  And  to  have  a  poet's  wife  ask  him 
when  he  was  going  to  stop  writing  poetry!  was  cer- 
tainly enough  to  make  him  so.  She,  with  all  her  noble 
qualities,  we  might  hazard  the  opinion,  was  a  trifle  too 
self-righteous;  and  he,  with  his  breast,  like  Philomel, 
ever  against  the  thorn  of  meretricious  self-disparage- 
ment, was  a  trifle  too  lax.  And  thus  their  lives,  like 
the  rushing  of  the  arrowy  Rhine,  although  picturesque, 
were  always  running  against  snags. 

It  was  he  too  who  first  said  that  "  love  was  like 
measles,  more  dangerous  when  it  came  late  in  life." 

On  another  occasion  he  delivered  himself  of  the  fol- 
lowing bit  of  profound  wisdom,  w^orthy  of  Marcus 
Aurelius  or  of  Seneca:  '*  We  should  live  with  our 
friends  as  if  one  day  we  should  lose  them.  This 
maxim,  strictly  followed,  will  not  only  render  our  lives 
happier,  but  will  save  the  survivor  from  those  pangs 
conjured  up  by  memories  of  slights  and  unkindnesses 
offered  to  those  we  have  lost  when  too  late  for  atone- 
ment." He  also  said :  "  To  be  happy  we  must  forget 
the  past,  since  memory  precludes  felicity  and  borrows 
from  the  bygone  to  embitter  the   future."     He  evi- 


264  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

dently  had  no  pleasures  of  memory.  He  said  he  had 
none,  and  that  even  his  childhood  was  filled  with  bit- 
terness. 

"  Great  imagination,"  he  said,  "  is  seldom  accom- 
panied by  equal  powers  of  reason.  We  rarely  possess 
superiority  at  any  one  point  except  at  the  expense  of 
another." 

Speaking  of  Hope's  "  Anastasius,"  a  now  forgotten 
work,  he  said  he  wept  bitterly  over  many  pages  of  it, 
and  for  two  reasons, —  first,  that  he  had  not  written  it ; 
and,  secondly,  that  Hope  had.  He  said  that  it  was 
necessary  to  like  a  man  excessively  in  order  to  pardon 
his  having  written  such  a  book, —  a  book  excelling  all 
recent  productions  as  much  in  wit  and  talent  as  in  true 
pathos.  He  would  have  given  his  two  most  approved 
poems  to  have  been  the  author  of  "  Anastasius." 

The  next  quotation  will  seem  self-evident,  although 
never  before,  so  far  as  we  know,  expressed  in  this 
candid  way :  "  Genius,  like  greatness,  should  be  seen 
at  a  distance,  for  neither  will  bear  too  close  an  inspec- 
tion. Imagine  a  hero  of  a  thousand  fights  in  his  cotton 
night-cap,  subject  to  the  infirmities  of  human  nature, 
and  there  is  an  end  to  his  sublimity.  .  .  .  See  a  poet, 
whose  works  have  raised  our  thoughts  to  the  empy- 
rean, blotting,  tearing,  rewriting  the  lines  we  thought 
had  poured  forth  with  Homeric  inspiration;  and  at 
intervals,  between  the  cantos  and  stanzas,  eating,  drink- 
ing, sleeping,  bothering  about  the  price  of  groceries, 
and  contesting  the  exorbitant  bills  of  tradespeople  and 
mechanics,  and  he  sinks  to  the  common  level.     Such 


BYRON  265 

men  should  live  in  solitude,  and  make  their  presence 
a  rarity.  They  should  never  submit  to  the  gratifica- 
tion of  the  animal  appetite  of  eating  in  company."  He 
also  intimates  that  the  proverbial  devotion  of  poets  to 
their  wives  is  due  to  their  imaginations'  reflecting  them 
on  the  magic  mirror  of  their  fancy  as  paragons. 

Talking  to  a  friend  who  had  made  a  witty  compar- 
ison, he  said,  '*  That  thought  of  yours  is  pretty  and 
just,  which  all  pretty  thoughts  are  not,  and  I  shall 
pop  it  into  my  next  poem." 

"  Nothing,"  he  observes,  *'  cements  friendship  and 
companionship  so  strongly  as  having  read  the  same 
books  and  having  known  the  same  people." 

Like  Goethe,  he  w^as  a  great  admirer  at  one  time  of 
Napoleon.  In  fact  he  was  generous  enough  to  divide 
the  world  with  him,  keeping  the  best  part  though  to 
himself.  Yet  he  said,  ''  What  I  most  admire  in  Na- 
poleon is  his  want  of  sympathy,  which  proves  his 
knowledge  of  humanity."  Yet  he,  Byron,  was  so 
sympathetic  himself  that  with  all  his  regard  for 
money  —  he  said  that  avarice  was  his  greatest  fault  — 
he  nevertheless  squandered  it  on  needy  friends,  and 
there  was  nothing  that  appealed  to  him  so  strongly  as 
misfortune.  The  wretched,  the  homeless  and  poor, 
including  homeless  dogs,  were  objects  of  his  constant 
compassion  and  beneficence.  He  never  passed  a  beg- 
gar on  the  street  without  casting  coin  into  his  always 
empty  treasury,  his  hat.  Toward  the  end  his  exalted 
opinion  of  Napoleon  changed,  and  after  his  exile  we 
find  him  writing: 


266  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

"  Nor  till  thy  fall  could  mortals  guess 
Ambition's  less  than  littleness." 

"  The  desolator  desolate. 
The  victor  overthrown. 
The  arbiter  of  other's  fate 
A  suppliant  for  his  own." 

"  To  think  that  God's  fair  earth  hath  been 
The  footstool  of  a  thing  so  mean." 

In  a  conversation  about  his  daughter  AUegra's  mental 
qualities,  he  anxiously  exclaimed :  ''  Who  would  wil- 
lingly possess  genius?  None,  I  am  persuaded,  who 
know  the  misery  it  entails,  its  temperament  producing 
continual  irritation,  destructive  alike  to  health  and  hap- 
piness. And  what  are  its  advantages?  To  be  envied, 
hated,  and  persecuted  in  life  and  libeled  in  death."  On 
another  occasion  he  defined  fame  as  "  being  killed  in 
battle  to-day  and  having  your  name  spelled  wrong  in 
the  Gazette  to-morrow." 

On  another  occasion  he  said :  "  We  only  know  the 
value  of  our  possessions  when  we  have  lost  them." 
And  again :  "  It  is  difficult  when  a  man  detests  an 
author  not  to  detest  his  works.  I  despise  Southey  and 
nothing  that  he  writes  is  of  value  to  me."  In  the 
"  English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers "  he  calls 
Southey  "  a  ballad-monger  "  and  petitions  the  Lord  to 
help  him  and  his  readers  too.  Yet  when  they  met  aft- 
erward,—  in  spite  of  Southey's  animosity  —  he 
thought  Byron  "  Satan  incarnate," —  Byron  admired 
his  handsome  appearance  and  fine  conversation,  and 
their  mutual  enmity  to  an  extent  ceased. 


BYRON  267 

The  following,  which  might  be  called  a  new  theory  of 
love  and  beauty,  the  reader  will  recognize  as  having 
something  of  Bernard  Shaw's  sometimes  plausible  par- 
adox in  it,  "  A  poet  endows  the  woman  he  loves  with 
all  charms,  and  has  no  need  of  actual  beauty  to  fill  up 
the  picture.  He  should  select  a  woman  who  is  good 
rather  than  beautiful,  leaving  the  latter  for  those  who, 
having  no  imagination,  require  actual  beauty  to  satisfy 
their  taste." 

He  liked  to  compare  himself,  after  the  manner  of 
Plutarch,  with  Alfieri.  "  We  both,"  he  says,  ''  have 
domesticated  ourselves  with  women  of  rank,  are  fond 
of  animals,  above  all  horses,  like  to  be  surrounded  by 
birds  and  pets  of  various  descriptions,  are  passionate 
lovers  of  liberty,  are  the  recipients  of  numerous  ama- 
tory letters  and  portraits  from  lady  adorers.     .     .     .'* 

In  this  connection. he  told  a  story  of  Alfieri  who  had 
been  followed  from  one  city  to  another  by  an  infatu- 
ated noblewoman,  an  admirer  of  his  genius.  Finally 
arriving  at  the  hotel  where  he  stopped  and  finding  the 
number  of  his  room  she  entered  vmannounced  as  the 
poet  sat  writing  at  a  table,  threw  her  arms  around  his 
neck,  and  was  about  to  express  the  ardor  of  her  emo- 
tions when  she  discovered  that  she  was  embracing  only 
the  great  man's  secretary!  Alfieri,  entering  the  room 
at  the  same  moment  and  taking  in  the  situation  at  a 
glance, —  it  was  not,  it  would  seem,  a  new  experience, — 
became  frantically  indignant  and  tore  his  hair  after  the 
most  approved  Italian  fashion  because  anyone  should 
make  the  compromising  blunder,  to  him,  of  mistaking 


268  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

anybody  in  the  world  for  the  greatest  poet  of  Italy! 

It  was  on  hearing  this  that  someone  suspected  Byron 
of  being  but  a  copy  of  an  original  he  had  long  studied. 
He  once  refused  to  read  a  tragedy  dedicated  to  George 
Byron  instead  of  to  Lord  George  Byron.  "  How 
stupid,"  he  said,  **  to  pass  over  my  rank.  I  am  deter- 
mined not  to  read  the  tragedy,  for  a  man  capable  of 
committing  such  a  solecism  in  good  breeding  and  com- 
mon  decency  can  write  nothing  worthy  of  being  read." 

In  talking  of  the  effect  of  senility  on  intellect  he 
said :  "  When  the  Destroyer,  Time,  cannot  cut  people 
off  altogether,  he  maims  them." 

Like  George  Bernard  Shaw,  though  he  wrote  plays 
and  was  once  like  Goethe  manager  of  a  theater,  Drury 
Lane,  he  disliked  theaters  and  actors,  and  like  Schiller 
when  he  could  he  prevented  the  performance  of  his 
own  plays.  "  Manfred  "  he  purposely  wrote,  he  said, 
so  that  it  could  not  be  adapted  to  theatric  representa- 
tion. 

Like  Geoffrey  Chancier,  Lord  Bacon,  Dr.  Johnson, 
and  G.  B.  Shaw,  he  regarded  "  money  as  the  greatest 
thing  in  the  world."  ''  It  makes  everything  possible, 
and  its  opposite,  poverty,  is  the  worst."  Shaw  calls 
poverty  "  wickedness  and  cowardice."  Chaucer  said 
it  was  "  the  mother  of  ruin,  that  is  to  say,  the  mother 
of  overthrowing  or  falling  down."  Johnson  said  that 
*'  a  man  guilty  of  poverty  easily  believes  himself  sus- 
pected," while  Byron  insists  that  "  money  is  wisdom, 
knowledge,  power,  all  combined."  He  was  fond  to  the 
point  of  parsimony  of  money;  yet  his  charities  were 


BYRON  269 

frequent  and  liberal.  When  living  with  the  Guiccioli 
in  Venice  his  income  was  four  thousand  pounds  a  year, 
one  thousand  of  which  he  spent  in  charity, —  which  but 
shows  how  very  charitable  he  must  have  been.  He 
gave  away  to  the  needy  what  to  him  was  of  supreme 
importance. 

Nothing  was  much  more  singular  about  him  than  his 
views  of  art.  He  declared  that  he  never  believed 
people  serious  in  their  admiration  of  pictures,  statues, 
and  so  on.  He  confessed  that  few  art  subjects  had 
excited  his  attention  and  that  to  admire  these  he  had 
been  forced  to  draw  on  his  imagination.  Of  objects 
of  taste  and  vertu  he  was  equally  regardless,  and 
antiquities  had  no  interest  for  him.  He  carried  this  so 
far  that  he  disbelieved  the  possibility  of  their  exciting 
interest  in  any  one,  and  said  they  "  merely  served  as  an 
excuse  for  indulging  the  vanity  and  ostentation  of 
those  who  had  no  other  means  of  attracting  attention." 

The  next  excerpt  might  be  ascribed  to  Rochefou- 
cauld rather  than  to  the  author  of  "  The  Hebrew  Melo- 
dies " :  *'  Cleverness  and  cunning  are  incompatible.  I 
never  saw  them  united.  The  latter  is  the  natural  re- 
source of  the  weak.  Children  and  people  of  limited 
mental  caliber  are  cunning;  clever  people,  never." 

He  believed  in  ghosts.  He  had  no  religious  nor 
national  prejudices,  but,  like  many  Englishmen,  fre- 
quently tiraded  against  his  own  country.  Yet  if  yon 
attempted  disparagement  his  patriotism  rose  to  the  bait 
as  a  trout  to  a  fly  in  midsummer.  So  different  this 
from  the  Irish.     Charles  Lever  says,  "  An  Irishman 


270  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

will  talk  in  extravagant  praise  of  his  country  and  peo- 
ple for  hours,  but  if  you  do,  he  thinks  you  are  making 
fun  of  him,  and  resents  it." 

Byron   told  the   Countess   of   Blessington   that   in 
diving  for  a  Genoese  lira  in  clear  but  deep  water  — 
and,  by  the  way,  he  could  bring  up  coin,  thimbles,  eggs, 
and  the  like  from  the  bottom,  at  the  depth  of  ten  feet 
—  that  he  imbibed  so  much  of  that  element  through 
his  ears  that  it  gave  him  the  migraine,  not  apparently 
taking  into  account  the  fact  that  his  ears  had  drums, — 
impervious  membranes  stretched  across  the  auricular 
aperture  near  its  center, —  making  such  a  condition  im- 
possible.    This    reminds   us   of    Harriet   Martineau's 
bequeathing    her    ears, —  external    auricles, —  to    her 
family  physician  so  that  after  her  death  he  might  dis- 
cover the  cause  of  her  deafness.     She  actually  thought 
that  she  heard  with  the  external  auricular  appendages 
attached  to  the  side  of  her  head,  one  on  each  side  for 
symmetry,   or  so   that   she  would   not   have  tO'  turn 
around  when  she  wanted  to  listen  to  the  man  on  the 
other  side.     The  remainder  of  her  head  she  left  to  her 
friend,  Dr.  Combe,  the  craniologist,  for  one  of  the  pe- 
culiar beliefs  of  that  remarkable  woman  was  phrenol- 
ogy- 
Byron's  letters  to  his  mother  show  a  very  human  al- 
though unromantic  side  of  his  character.     And  certain 
items  in  the  catalogue  announcing  the  sale  at  auction  of 
his  books  previous  to  his  departure  for  the  far  East, — 
published  first  in  Dallas's  worthless  and  confusing  book 
(that  cost  me  fifteen  dollars  and  is  not  worth  ten  cents). 


BYRON  271 

"  The  Prohibited  Correspondence  with  Lord  Byron," — 
exhibit  a  fantasticality  of  taste  amounting  to  super- 
stition. For  example:  "  Lot  151  :  a  silver  sepulchral 
urn  made  with  great  taste.  Within  it  are  contained 
human  bones  taken  from  a  tomb  within  the  long  wall 
of  Athens  in  the  month  of  February,  181 1.  The  urn 
weighs  187  oz.,  5  dwts.  Lot  152:  a  silver  cup  con- 
taining *  Root  of  hemlock  gathered  in  the  dark.'  Ac- 
cording to  the  directions  of  the  witches  in  '  Macbeth  ' 
the  silver  cup  weighs  29  oz.  and  8  dwts." 

The  title  page  of  this  "Catalogue"  is  as  follows: 
*'  A  catalogue  of  books,  the  property  of  a  nobleman 
about  to  leave  England  for  the  Morea,  to  which  are 
added  a  silver  sepulchral  urn  containing  relics  brought 
from  Athens  and  a  silver  cup,  the  property  of  the  same 
noble  person,  which  will  be  sold  at  his  (Lord  Byron's) 
house,  No.  26  Pall  Mall,  on  Thursday  and  the  follow- 
ing day."  He  must  have  had  quite  a  large  number  of 
books.  The  sepulchral  urn  evidently  not  bringing  the 
expected  price  he  afterward  presented  it  to  Sir  Walter 
Scott. 

In  a  letter  to  his  mother,  first  printed  in  the  volume 
by  Dallas,  he  unromantically  begs  her  to  "  lay  in  a 
powerful  stock  of  potatoes,  greens,  and  biscuits,  since 
he  has  become  restricted  to  an  entire  vegetable  diet, 
neither  fish  nor  flesh  coming  within  his  regime." 

He  frequently  asserted  that  man  partook  of  the  na- 
ture of  the  animals  he  fed  upon.  ''  Look,  for  example, 
at  prize  fighters,"  he  says;  "their  feeding  on  flesh 
makes  them  as  ferocious  as  lions."     He  forgot  that 


272  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

they  did  not  live  on  lions.  He  was  not  above  getting 
the  better  of  the  customs  house  officers,  for  he  con- 
tinues :  "  I  have  brought  you  a  shawl  and  a  quantity 
of  attar  of  roses.  These  I  must  smuggle,  if  possible, 
but  pray  do  not  forget  my  diet,  and  take  care  of  my 
books." 

In  these  same  letters  from  the  East  he  tells  his 
mother  that  the  Pasha  of  Albania,  after  sending  his 
compliments  to  her,  told  him  that  he  was  sure  he  was  a 
man  of  high  rank  because  he  had  small  ears,  curly  hair, 
and  white  hands.  "  On  the  strength  of  which  marks 
of  distinction  he  gave  me  a  guard  of  forty  soldiers 
through  the  forests  of  Acarania." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

No  author  was  ever  so  popular  and  so  antag- 
onized during  his  life  as  he.  He  was  both  the  most 
celebrated  and  the  most  execrated  of  men.  As  many 
as  forty  thousand  copies  of  some  of  his  poems  were 
sold  in  a  few  days,  yet  he  was  hissed  in  the  street  on 
his  way  to  the  theater,  and  a  certain  respectable  actress, 
because  of  his  friendship  for  her,  was  driven  into  re- 
tirement. Men  envied  him,  women  of  all  ranks  wrote 
him  love-letters,  and  women  of  all  religious  persua- 
sions prayed  for  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  He  was 
compared  to  Nero,  Caligula,  Heliogabalus,  Henry 
Vni,  Beelzebub,  Belial,  and  other  exponents  of  vice 
and  wickedness.  And  ''  Byromania  "  became  an  epi- 
demic. 

He  had  to  leave  England  because  of  her  emphatically 
expressed  condemnation  of  his  conduct,  his  divorce 
being  the  gravest  offense, —  a  divorce,  however,  that 
prevented  him  from  marrying  again  until  the  death  of 
his  wife.  With  us,  thanks  to  our  lax  laws  and  the 
greed  and  depravity  of  certain  renegade  clergymen,  he 
would  not  have  needed  to  go  into  exile  nor  to  refrain 
from  remarriage. 

The  following  extracts  from  Moore's  **  Life  of  Lord 
Byron  "  will  give  the  reader  a  general  idea  of  his  lord- 
ship's personal  appearance.     His  handsome  looks,  as 

273 


274  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

everybody  knows,  was  the  theme  of  constant  eulogy. 

"  Of  his  face  the  beauty  may  be  pronounced  to  have 
been  of  the  highest  order,  as  combining  at  once  regu- 
larity of  features  with  the  most  varied  and  interesting 
expression.  His  eyes,  though  of  a  light  gray,  were 
capable  of  all  extremes  of  meaning,  but  it  was  in  the 
mouth  and  chin  that  the  great  beauty  as  well  as  expres- 
sion of  his  countenance  lay. 

"  His  head  was  remarkably  small  —  so  much  so  as 
to  be  rather  out  of  proportion  with  his  face.  The 
forehead,  though  a  little  too  narrow,  was  high  and  ap- 
peared more  so  from  his  having  his  hair  —  to  preserve 
it  he  said  —  shaved  over  the  temples ;  while  the  glossy 
dark  brown  colors,  clustering  over  his  head,  gave  the 
finish  to  his  beauty.  .  .  .  When  to  this  was  added 
that  his  nose,  though  handsome,  was  rather  thickly 
shaped,  that  his  teeth,  like  Mohammed's,  were  white 
and  regular,  and  his  complexion  colorless,  as  good  an 
idea  perhaps  as  it  is  in  the  power  of  mere  words  to 
convey  may  be  conceived  of  his  features. 

"  In  height  he  was,  as  he  himself  informed  me,  five 
feet,  eight  inches  and  a  half.  And  to  the  length  of  his 
limbs  he  attributed  his  being  such  a  good  swimmer. 
His  hands  were  very  white  and  —  according  to  his 
own  notion  of  the  size  of  hands  —  aristocratically 
small.  The  lameness  of  his  right  foot,  though  an  ob- 
stacle to  grace,  but  little  impeded  the  activity  of  his 
movements;  and  from  this  circumstance,  as  well  as 
from  the  skill  with  which  the  foot  was  disguised  by 
means  of  long  trousers,  it  would  be  difficult  to  conceive 


BYRON  275 

a  defect  of  this  kind  less  obtruding  itself  as  a  deform- 
ity, while  the  diffidence  which  a  constant  consciousness 
of  the  infirmity  gave  to  his  first  approach  and  address 
made  even  his  lameness  a  source  of  interest." 

Strange,  everybody  that  talks  of  Byron  talks  of  his 
lameness.  Yet  Scott  was  more  of  a  cripple  than  he. 
One  of  Scott's  legs  was  so  much  shorter  than  the  other 
that  in  walking  only  the  great  toe  touched  the  ground. 
A  stout  cane  was  necessary  to  facilitate  locomotion; 
yet  the  fact  of  his  perambulatory  handicap  is  but  sel- 
dom mentioned,  while  Byron's  equinus  varus  is  the 
theme  of  universal  remark. 

To  the  description  of  how  Byron  appeared  to  a  man, 
Tom  Moore,  we  may  add  by  w^ay  of  contrast  how  this 
*'  observed  of  all  observers  "  emblazoned  himself  on 
the  mind  of  a  woman,  the  Countess  of  Blessington, 
whose  so  delightfully  feminine  "  Conversations  with 
Lord  Byron  "  helped  to  place  him  in  a  more  favorable 
light  with  his  countrymen. 

Under  date  of  Genoa,  April  i,  1823,  where  she 
formed  an  intellectual  friendship  with  Lord  Byron,  she 
writes :  "  Saw  Lord  Byron  for  the  first  time.  The 
impression  for  the  first  few  minutes  disappointed  me. 
From  portraits  and  descriptions  I  had  fancied  him 
taller,  with  a  more  dignified  air,  and  I  looked  in  vain 
for  the  hero-looking  sort  of  person  with  whom  I  had 
so  long  identified  him  in  my  imagination.  His  ap- 
pearance is,  however,  highly  prepossessing;  his  head 
finely  shaped,  the  forehead  open,  high,  and  noble ;  his 
eyes  are  grey  and  full  of  expression,  but  one  is  visibly 


2ye  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

larger  than  the  other;  nose  large  and  well  shaped  and 
looking  bent  in  profile ;  his  mouth  is  the  most  remark- 
able feature,  the  upper  lip  is  Grecian  in  shortness,  the 
corners  descending,  the  lips  full  and  finely  cut.  In 
speaking  he  shows  his  teeth  very  much  and  they  are 
white  and  even,  and  I  observed  that  even  in  his  smile, 
and  he  smiles  frequently,  there  is  something  of  a  scorn- 
ful expression  that  is  evidently  natural,  and  not,  as 
many  suppose,  affected.  He  is  extremely  thin,  indeed 
so  much  so  that  his  figure  has  almost  a  boyish  air. 
His  face  is  peculiarly  pale,  the  paleness  of  ill  health, 
and  his  hair,  which  is  getting  rapidly  grey,  is  of  a  very 
dark  brown  and  curls  naturally.  He  uses  a  good  deal 
of  bear's  oil  on  it,  which  makes  it  look  still  darker. 
His  whole  appearance  is  remarkably  gentlemanlike,  and 
he  owes  nothing  of  this  to  his  toilet,  as  his  coat  appears 
to  have  been  many  years  made,  is  made  too  large,  and 
all  his  garments  convey  the  idea  of  having  been  pur- 
chased ready-made,  so  ill  do  they  fit  him." 

Anent  sartorial  eccentricities,  in  a  letter  to  Moore, 
dated  June  9,  1820,  he  writes:  *'  Besides  the  vex- 
ations mentioned  in  my  last  I  have  incurred  a  quarrel 
with  the  pope's  carabiniers,  or  gens  d'armes,  who  have 
petitioned  the  cardinal  against  my  liveries,  as  too 
nearly  resembling  their  own  lousy  uniform.  They 
particularly  object  to  the  epaulettes,  which  all  the  world 
with  us  have  upon  gala  days.  My  liveries  are  of  the 
colours  conforming  to  my  arms,  and  have  been  the 
family  hue  since  the  year  1066.  I  have  sent  a 
trenchant  reply,  as  you  may  suppose."     He  frequently 


BYRON  277 

changed  his  costumes.  During  his  last  visit  to  Greece 
he  entered  that  classic  country  dressed  in  the  habili- 
ments of  a  Scotch  highlander. 

But  to  return  to  the  account  of  the  Countess  of  Bless- 
ington:  *'  His  voice  and  accents  are  peculiarly  agree- 
able, but  effeminate, —  clear  and  harmonious  and  so  dis- 
tinct that  though  his  general  tone  in  speaking  is  rather 
low  than  high,  not  a  word  is  lost.  .  .  ." — Thus  in  ef- 
feminacy of  voice  Byron  was  like  Caesar,  while 
Mohammed's  speech  was  "  deep,  manly,  beautifully 
modulated  in  public  utterance,  in  private  conversation 
as  soft  as  a  lute." — "  I  had  expected  to  find  him  a  dig- 
nified, cold,  reserved,  and  haughty  person,  resembling 
those  mysterious  personages  that  he  loved  so  to  paint 
in  his  works  and  with  whom  he  has  been  so  often 
identified  by  the  good-natured  world.  But  nothing 
can  be  more  different,  for  were  I  to  point  out  the  prom- 
inent defect  of  Lord  Byron  I  should  say  it  was  flip- 
pancy and  a  total  want  of  that  natural  self-possession 
and  dignity  which  ought  to  characterize  a  man  of  birth 
and  education." 

Thus  we  have  the  tout  ensemble  of  "  the  greatest 
poet  since  Shakespeare,"  as  seen  by  different  observ^ers. 
Yet  the  two  pictures  are  remarkably  alike.  His  wit 
and  humor,  as  everybody  knows,  were  varied  and 
striking,  and  his  jokes  were  often  at  his  own  expense. 

In  discussing  the  merits  of  mutual  friends  with  a 
certain  lady,  he  laughingly  asserted  that  they  had 
saved  him  from  suicide.  "  It  was  a  sad  period  in  my 
history,"  he  said,  "  and  I  should  positively  have  put 


278  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

an  end  to  myself,  but  that  I  guessed  that  either  the  one 
or  the  other  of  them  would  have  written  my  life,  and 
with  that  fear  before  me  I  lived  on.  For  I  knew  that 
they  would  have  penned  excuses  for  my  delinquencies 
as  lame  as  myself." 

Of  an  at  one  time  well  known  poet,  William 
Spencer,  now  gone  into  unmerited  oblivion,  he  said, 
"  He  has  just  gayety  enough  to  prevent  his  sentimen- 
tality from  becoming  lachrymose." 

All  through  his  writing  Byron  uses  the  word 
"  clever  "  as  a  synonym  for  ability,  as  do  the  present 
day  English  and  certain  Americans  who  have  spent  two 
days  in  London  on  a  six  weeks'  tour  around  the  w^orld. 
There  were  three  men  our  poet  never  ceased  to  ad- 
mire,—  Scott,  Shelley,  and  Tom  Moore.  He  delighted 
in  Scott  both  as  a  man  and  an  author,,  was  always 
pleased  with  his  novels,  read  them  over  and  over  again 
with  increasing  pleasure  and  felt  that  he  equaled,  even 
surpassed  Cervantes,  and  that  in  his  private  character 
he  was  his  ne  plus  ultra  of  men.  In  talking  of  Scott's 
goodness  of  heart  his  eyes  would  fill  with  tears  and  his 
pallid  face  become  ruddy. 

Of  Shelley,  whom  he  called  the  "  Ariel  of  English 
verse,"  while  Shelley  called  him  "  the  tempest-cleaving 
swan  of  Albion,"  he  said  to  a  friend:  "  You  should 
have  known  Shelley.  He  was  the  most  gentle,  amiable, 
and  the  least  worldly-minded  person  I  ever  met;  full  of 
delicacy,  and  disinterested  beyond  all  other  men.  He 
had  formed  to  himself  a  beau  ideal  of  all  that  is  high- 
minded  and  noble,  and  acted  up  to  his  ideal  even  to  the 


BYRON  279 

letter.  He  had  a  most  brilliant  imagination  but  a  total 
want  of  worldly  wisdom." 

"  Moore  is  the  only  poet  I  know,"  continued  Byron, 
"  whose  conversation  equals  his  writings.  No  one 
writes  songs  like  him,  sentiment  and  imagination  are 
joined  in  the  most  harm.onious  versification,  and  I 
know  no  greater  treat  than  to  hear  him  sing  his  own 
compositions.  The  powerful  expression  he  gives  them 
and  the  pathos  of  the  tones  of  his  voice  produce  an 
effect  that  no  other  songs  ever  did." 

Much  as  Byron  was  affected  by  Moore's  singing  his 
own  songs,  ^'  the  sentiment  of  w^hich,"  according  to 
N.  P.  Willis,  "  goes  through  your  blood,  warming  you 
to  the  eyelids  and  almost  breaking  your  heart,"  he  was 
more  affected  by  "  animated  conversation,  which,"  he 
declared,  ''  has  much  the  same  effect  on  me  as  cham- 
pagne,— ■  it  elevates  and  makes  me  giddy,  and  then  I 
say  a  thousand  foolish  things  while  under  its  intoxicat- 
ing influence.  I  find  an  interesting  book  the  only 
sedative  to  restore  me  again  to  my  wonted  calm." 

He  never  wished  to  live  long.  "  Life  is  like  wine," 
he  quoted  from  Sir  William  Temple.  "  He  who 
would  drink  it  pure  must  not  drink  it  to  the  dregs. 
But  let  me  not  live  to  be  old.  Give  me  youth  which  is 
the  fever  of  reason  and  not  age  which  is  the  palsy." 
And  on  another  occasion,  paraphrasing  Macbeth,  he 
said:  "  It  is  painful  to  find  oneself  growing  old  with- 
out that  which  should  accompany  old  age,  as  honor, 
love,  obedience,  troops  of  friends."  He  was  then  liv- 
ing in  exile.     "  I  feel  this  keenly,  reckless  as  I  appear. 


28o  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

though  there  are  few  to  whom  I  would  avow  it  and 
certainly  not  to  a  man/'  Yet,  as  we  know,  he  died 
April  19,  1824,  only  in  his  thirty-ninth  year,  engaged 
"  in  the  glorious  attempt  to  restore  Greece  to  her 
ancient  freedom  and  renown." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

The  following  additional  peculiarities  and  eccentrici- 
ties are  gathered  from  various  sources,  for  many  per- 
sons were  attracted  to  Lord  Byron,  and  thought  it 
their  greatest  glory  to  write  his  speeches  and  to  record 
his  actions  in  their  books.  No  two  seem  to  have  seen 
him  alike.  Yet,  taking  them  all  together,  they  exhibit 
the  tout  ensemble  of  a  man  with  nerves  so  distorted 
that  he  would  seem  not  always  responsible  for  what  he 
said  or  did.  He  was  altogether  unlike  Csesar  and 
Mohammed  in  this. 

To  begin,  he  was  born  in  convulsions.  And  was 
not  the  deformity  which  distressed  him  all  his  days, 
and  perhaps  kept  his  pride,  like  that  of  the  swan,  from 
soaring  beyond  endurance,  but  a  part  of  the  neurosis 
that  affected  him  through  life?  This  condition  mani- 
fested itself  with  greatest  energy  at  the  end  of  his  ca- 
reer, to  the  extent  of  four  violent  seizures  in  ten  days. 

His  pictures, —  which  he  was  as  fond  of  having 
taken  as  Thomas  Jefferson  a  hundred  years  ago,  or  the 
merest  prima  donna  to-day, —  especially  those  by  G.  H. 
Harlowe  and  Count  D'Orsay,  respectively,  show  the 
facies  epilepticiis  as  unmistakably  as  if  they  looked  at 
you  from  the  enclosure  of  a  colony  farm. 

Nearly  everything  about  him  indicated  the  man  of 

distorted  nerves  and  often  disordered  vision. 

281 


2S2  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

Like  Mohammed  and  Csesar,  he  was  extremely  su- 
perstitious, beheved  in  lucky  and  unlucky  days,  dis- 
liked undertaking  anything  on  Friday,  was  full  of  ap- 
prehensions about  being  helped  to  salt  at  table,  spilling 
salt,  letting  bread  fall,  or  breaking  a  mirror.  And  not- 
withstanding his  usual  bravery  and  confidence  in  him- 
self, he  was  as  much  the  victim  of  ominous  apprehen- 
sion as  a  chlorotic  girl. 

In  this  particular  '*  old  womanish  ''  Is  the  epithet 
applied  to  the  subsequent  "  Hero  of  Missolonghi  "  by 
Leigh  Hunt. 

What  was  his  morbid  love  of  a  bad  name  but  a  men- 
tal distemper,  perverted  "  hallucination  of  splendor," 
common  to  men  of  neurotic  make-up?  Thus  he  was 
in  the  habit  of  accusing  himself  of  crimes,  particularly 
of  a  certain  type,  and  was  as  vulgar  in  the  matter  of 
discussing  them  as  the  common  loafer  on  the  street 
corner  who  knows  a  slander  about  every  house  in  sight. 
And  he  would  relate  compromising  confidences  as  com- 
placently as  if  telling  a  pleasant  winter's  tale.  Between 
snatches  of  songs  from  the  frivolous  opera  he  would 
relate  by  way  of  entertaining  variety  such  family  catas- 
trophies  as  that  his  father  cut  his  throat,  and  madness 
ran  in  his  family,  that  his  mother  had  "  a  devilish 
temper,"  and  that  while  in  a  rage  with  her  only  son  her 
favorite  weapon  was  the  poker.  This  merely  to  amuse 
or  astonish  his  auditor. 

As  others  cultivated  the  bubble  reputation  even  in 
the  cannon's  mouth,  he,  some  things  would  make  it 
appear,  exulted  in  infamy.     Yet  the  majority  of  his 


BYRON  283 

friends  testified  that  personally  they  knew  nothing  bad 
about  Byron  ''  but  what  he  said  himself." 

This  was  the  element  of  melodrama  in  the  patient 
—  for  we  cannot  get  away  from  the  notion  that  Byron 
was  chronically  sick.  So  perverted  was  his  self-love 
that  he  did  not  hesitate  to  make  himself  the  hero  of  un- 
speakable slander  and  of  all  sorts  of  iniquities,  even  to 
the  extent  before  indicated  of  writing  vile  paragraphs 
against  himself  for  foreign  journals  just  for  the  fun 
of  seeing  them  republished  as  facts  in  the  English 
papers. 

It  was  Nero  and  Caligula  w^ho  delighted  in  mutilat- 
ing insects  and  in  dislocating  the  legs  of  living 
creatures  for  the  pleasure  of  hearing  them  scream  in 
pain.  Byron,  to  the  contrary,  was  tender  to  animals, 
was  made  wretched  by  their  suffering,  but  delighted 
even  in  the  pretense  of  ethical  obliquities  of  which  he 
was  not  guilty. 

Like  Hamlet's  mother,  "  assuming  virtues  though 
she  had  them  not," —  so  Byron  with  vice.  The  same 
pathology  resulting  in  the  obtunding  of  delicate  moral 
discrimination  was  the  cause  of  many  discrepancies  of 
conduct. 

Transitory  excitements,  dreamy  states,  anxious  and 
conscious  deliria,  extremes  of  asceticism  and  excess, 
sudden  morbid  impulses,  blunting  of  the  finer  feelings, 
fondness  for  the  bizarre,  the  fantastic,  and  the  grue- 
some, are  often  conditions  for  which  disease,  rather 
than  morality,  is  responsible. 

Unlike   Csesar  and  Mohammed,   who  were  always 


284  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

sane  in  the  matter  of  things  cuHnary, — especially  Mo- 
hammed, who  confined  his  diet  to  a  few  simple 
things, —  Byron  was  absurdly  and  pretentiously  partic- 
ular, and  childishly  proud  of  it.  Alexander  Dyce,  in 
his  interesting  volume,  "  The  Table  Talk  of  Rogers," 
tells  the  folowing  story: 

"  Neither  Moore  nor  myself  had  ever  seen  Byron, 
when  it  was  settled  that  he  should  dine  at  my  house  to 
meet  Moore.  Alexander  Campbell  was  also  to  be  of 
the  party.  When  we  sat  down  at  dinner  I  asked 
Byron  if  he  would  like  soup.  No,  he  never  took  soup. 
Would  he  take  some  fish?  No,  he  never  took  fish. 
Presently  I  asked  him  if  he  would  eat  some  mutton. 
No,  he  never  ate  mutton.  I  then  asked  him  if  he 
would  take  a  glass  of  wine.  No,  he  never  tasted  wine. 
It  was  now  necessary  to  ask  him  what  he  did  eat  and 
drink,  and  the  answer  was,  *  Nothing  but  hard  biscuit 
and  soda  water.' 

"  Unfortunately  neither  hard  biscuit  nor  soda  water 
were  in  the  house,  and  so  he  dined  on  potatoes  bruised 
down  on  his  plate  and  drenched  with  vinegar.  Some 
days  after,  meeting  Hobhouse," — he  who  wrote  the 
notes  to  "  Childe  Harold,"  and  traveled  with  the  noble 
lord  on  the  continent  and  in  the  Orient, — "  I  said  to 
him,  '  How  long  will  Lord  Byron  persevere  in  his  pres- 
ent diet  ?  '  He  replied,  '  Just  as  long  as  you  notice  it.' 
I  did  not  then  know  what  I  know  to  be  a  fact  now, — 
that  Byron,  after  leaving  my  house,  had  gone  to  a 
club  in  St.  James  Street  and  had  eaten  a  hearty  meat 
supper." 


BYRON  285 

It  would  be  interesting,  if  there  were  not  too  much 
travail  of  soul  without  it,  just  as  one  runs  through  a 
bazaar  for  curios,  to  roam  through  Byron's  writings  for 
descriptions  of  swoons,  bursts  of  abnormal  passion  and 
violence,  faintings,  ecstasies,  enthusiasms  of  a  moment, 
silent  rages,  syncopes,  and  other  occasional  concom- 
itants of  epileptic  dyscrasia  scattered  here  and  there 
through  his  poetry  and  prose.  And  nearly  always 
these  descriptions  are  autobiographic.  They  might  dis- 
cover the  heart  of  his  mystery,  and  reveal  his  psychosis. 

Just  one  illustration,  and  that  from  "  Mazeppa," 
occurs  to  me  as  a  very  good  poetic  description  of  an 
epileptic  seizure  as  evidently  experienced  by  its  author, 
although  given  as  an  account  of  the  feelings  experi- 
enced by  a  man  tied  to  the  back  of  a  runaway  horse, 
who  had  found  relief  in  unconsciousness. 


"  The  earth  gives  way ;  The  sky  rolls  round ; 
I  seem  to  sink  upon  the  ground. 

My  heart  turned  sick,  my  brain  grew  sore 
And  throbbed  awhile,  then  beat  no  more. 

The  sky  spun  like  a  mighty  wheel, 

I  saw  the  trees  like  drunkards  reel 

And  a  light  flash  [the  aura]   sprang  o'er  my  eyes 

Which  saw  no   further.     He  who   dies 

Can  die  no  more  than  then  I  died. 

I  felt  the  blackness  come  and  go, 

And  strove  to  wake,  but  could  not  make 

My  senses   climb  up   from  below." 

The  first  two  and  the  last  two  lines  are  luminously  de- 


286  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

scriptive  of  the  fall  or  sinking  to  the  earth,  which  gives 
the  disease  its  common  name  of  the  '*  falling  sickness." 
The  last  two  lines  tell  of  the  ineffectual  struggle  before 
the  denouement  of  unconsciousness  and  convulsions. 
The  poet  stops  short  there,  because  that  is  the  only- 
stage  of  an  attack  that  the  victim  knows  nothing  about. 
Thus  in  this  graphic  account  he  carried  you  to  the 
very  edge  of  the  river  of  epileptic  oblivion  before  mak- 
ing the  final  plunge  into  its  lethe-like  turbulence. 

His  inordinate  vanity,  both  of  looks  and  capacity, 
was  almost,  if  not  quite,  cachexia  of  the  same  web  that 
carried  within  its  warp  and  woof  obtuse  moral  discrim- 
ination, lameness,  grobian  excesses, — epilepsy. 

It  is  difficult  to  conceive  of  the  self-assurance  of  a 
writer  who  would  not  keep  a  copy  of  Shakespeare  in 
his  house,  for  fear  that  it  might  be  thought  that  he 
wTote  like  him  as  a  matter  of  mere  imitation.  This 
was  so  different  from  Goethe's  refusing  at  last  to  read 
Shakespeare  because  he  made  him, —  Goethe, —  seem 
insignificant.  He,  Goethe, —  Olympian  though  he  was, 
—  confessed  that  the  reading  of  Shakespeare  made  him 
think  of  himself  as  the  merest  dwarf  in  comparison. 

Not  only  Byron's  ability  but  his  appearance,  except 
his  foot  or  feet, —  for  the  number  is  a  matter  of  dis- 
pute,—  was  a  subject  of  self-satisfied  complacency. 
He  attached  so  much  importance  to  the  etiolation  of 
his  hands,  which  were  indeed  as  pallid  as  his  com- 
plexion, that  in  order  to  prevent  the  winds  of 
heaven  from  visiting  them  too  roughly  he  constantly 
kept  them  encased  in  gloves.     Leigh  Hunt  tells  us  of 


BYRON  287 

his  delicate  white  hands,  of  which  he  was  proud;  and 
he  attracted  attention  to  them,  he  further  adds,  by 
rings. 

Thus  he  anticipated  N.  P.  Willis, —  and  also  Dis- 
raeli,—  who,  besides  adorning  himself  with  elaborate 
gold  chains  around  the  neck,  wore  conspicuously  be- 
gemmed rings  on  his  fingers,  even  outside  his  gloves. 
*'  Byron  thought  a  delicately  white  hand,"  Hunt  tells 
us,  "  almost  the  only  mark  remaining  nowadays  of  a 
gentleman.  He  often  appeared  holding  a  handker- 
chief upon  which  his  be  jeweled  fingers  lay  embedded 
as  in  a  picture."  See  Philips'  beautiful  portrait, 
the  picture  we  have  designated  as  the  one  with 
the  calla-lily  collar.  Byron  never  w^ore  such  a  collar, 
any  more  than  Napoleon  looked  like  a  demi-god ;  they 
were  only  dressed  so  for  purposes  of  picturesque  por- 
traiture. 

"  His  lordship  w'as  also  as  fond  of  fine  linen  as  a 
Quaker,"  the  author  of  "  The  Story  of  Rimini  "  con- 
tinues, "  and  had  the  remnant  of  his  hair  oiled  and 
trimmed  with  all  the  anxiety  of  a  Sardanapalus." 

"  The  visible  character  to  w^hich  this  effeminacy 
gave  rise,"  says  the  same  writer, —  who  must  have 
owed  Byron  money, — "  appears  to  have  indicated 
itself  as  early  as  his  travels  in  the  Levant,  w^hen  the 
Grand  Seignior  is  said  to  have  taken  him  for  a 
woman."  He  was  thus  as  particular  about  his  hands 
as  Caesar  was  of  his  skin,  or  Mohammed  about  ablu- 
tions and  pleasant  odors. 

*'  His  are  the  smallest  male  hands  I  ever  saw,"  says 


288  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

the  Countess  of  Blessington,  "  finely  shaped,  delicately 
white,  and  his  finger  nails  are  like  pink  sea-shells." 

He  had  two  terrors, —  growing  fat  and  going  mad, 
—  and  in  case  of  being  compelled  to  make  a  choice  he 
tells  us  which  he  would  choose. 

His  selection  of  biscuit  and  vinegar  and  other  diet- 
ary degeneracies  was  to  keep  his  form  within  the 
precious  dimensions  of  an  ^^  Adonis  of  loveliness  " —  to 
borrow  the  epithet  for  applying  which  to  the  Prince 
Regent  Hunt  went  to  jail  —  and  what  he  lacked  in 
admiration  for  his  Silenus  foot  he  made  up  for  in  grat- 
ified contemplation  of  his  Hebe-like  hands  and  other- 
wise general  pulchritude. 

Thus  even  conceit  has  its  compensations,  and  what 
we  lack  in  grace  is  made  up  in  fancy. 

There  are  so  many  conflicting  statements  about  his 
personal  appearance,' —  and  that  too  by  persons  of 
trained  observation, —  that  you  think  of  him  as  not  one 
man  but  as  many  men. 

One  of  the  many  who  immortalized  themselves  by 
painting  his  portrait  said  that  "  he  was  a  bad  sitter, 
and  assumed  a  countenance  that  did  not  belong  to 
him,  as  if  he  were  thinking  of  a  frontispiece  for 
'  Childe  Harold.'  " 

Sir  Archibald  Allison  —  see  "  Autobiography  " — 
says :  "  Byron  was  always  aiming  at  effect,  and  the 
effect  he  desired  was  rather  that  of  fashion  than  of 
genius;  he  sought  rather  to  astonish  than  to  impress. 
He  seemed  blase  with  every  enjoyment  of  life,  affected 
rather  the  successful  roue  than  the  great  poet,  and 


BYRON  2S9 

deprecated  beyond  everything  the  cant  of  morahty." 

On  the  other  hand,  James  GiUman,  writing  to  Cole- 
ridge,—  see  "  Life  of  Coleridge," —  says  : 

"If  you  had  seen  Lord  Byron  you  could  scarcely 
disbelieve  him  in  anything.  So  beautiful  a  counte- 
nance I  scarcely  ever  saw.  His  teeth,  so  many  sta- 
tionary smiles;  his  eyes,  the  open  portals  of  the  sun, — 
things  of  light  and  for  light;  and  his  forehead,  so 
ample,  yet  so  flexible,  passing  from  marble  smoothness 
into  a  hundred  wreathes  and  lines  and  dimples,  corre- 
sponding to  the  feelings  and  sentiments  he  is  utter- 
ing." 

Almost  as  extreme  —  this  —  as  Castellar. 

Trelawny,  who  lived  with  Byron  and  Shelley  in 
Italy,  and  who  wrote  "  Recollections  of  the  Last  Days 
of  Shelley  and  Byron,"  says  : 

"  In  external  appearance  Byron  realized  that  ideal 
standard  with  which  imagination  adorns  genius.  .  .  . 
Nature  could  do  little  more  than  she  had  done  for  him, 
both  in  outward  form  and  in  the  inward  spirit  she  had 
given  to  animate  it."  Trelawny  thought,  though,  that 
"  his  lameness  certainly  helped  to  make  him  cynical, 
skeptical,  and  savage." 

It  may  be  interesting  to  physicians  to  know  that  the 
deformity,  which  seems  to  have  been  of  the  left  foot, — 
talipus  varus  —  due  to  the  contraction  of  the  tendon 
Achilles,  was  congenital  and  evidently  was  allied  to  his 
epilepsy.  Some  have  given  their  opinion  that  the 
lameness  was  hardly  noticeable.  Trelawny,  for  exam- 
ple, who  often  swam  with  him,  writes  that  "both  feet 


2go  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

were  clubbed,  and  his  legs  withered  to  the  knees,  ex- 
hibiting the  form  and  features  of  an  Apollo  with  the 
feet  and  legs  of  a  sylvan  satyr." 

This,  though, —  for  it  makes  an  unpleasant  picture, 
—  is  an  unhappy  impression  to  be  received  cum  grano 
sails  as  written  by  a  man  who  regarded  Byron  with 
repugnance,  as  a  dangerous  mischief-maker.  "  His 
wit  and  humor  might  force  a  grim  smile,  or  a  hollow 
laugh,"  he  wrote,  "  but  they  savored  more  of  pain  than 
playfulness." 

Notwithstanding  what  the  Countess  of  Blessington 
said  of  the  effeminacy  of  his  voice,  Captain  Medwyn, 
in  his  extravagant  "  Recollections,"  tells  us  that  his 
lordship's  voice  "  had  a  flexibility,  a  variety  in  its 
tones,  a  power  and  a  pathos,  beyond  any  I  have 
known." 

Thus  his  chameleonlike  character,  mannerisms,  and 
eccentricities, — for  much  of  which,  unlike  Csesar  and 
Mohammed,  his  peculiar  psychosis  or  neurosis  was  re- 
sponsible,—  makes  uniformity  of  description  impos- 
sible. No  two  persons  agreed  either  about  his  char- 
acter or  appearance,  but  all  are  united  in  admiration  of 
his  powerful  poetic  faculty  and  great  mental  force. 

Yet,  are  we  justified  in  making  his  pathology  or 
parentage  responsible  for  his  sins? 

It  has  been  said  in  extenuation  of  his  conduct  by  the 
always  interesting  Taine  that  "  his  debaucheries  in 
Italy  were  merely  a  protest  against  English  prudery." 
Trash ! 

His  debaucheries  were  simply  depravity,   Satan  in 


BYRON  291 

him,  the  hope  of  worldly  glorification,  and  cannot  be 
blamed  on  anyone  but  himself. 

The  subject  of  vicarious  iniquity  is,  or  ought  to  be, 
out  of  date. 

"  My  mother  made  me  go  to  church  when  a  child, 
therefore  I  hate  it  as  a  man,"  is  the  excuse  of  unbelief 
and  irreverence  the  world  over;  and  so  callous  are  we 
as  sometimes  to  believe  it. 

The  coward  disclaims  his  guilt,  charging  it  on  some 
accident  of  birth  or  training,  and  imagines  himself 
excused.     We  have  so  much  of  this  flimsy  reasoning. 

"  The  licentiousness  of  the  Restoration  was  due  to 
the  overrighteousness  of  the  Puritans  " ;  the  laxity  of 
disgraceful  sons  and  daughters,  to  the  religious  rigidity 
of  the  home;  the  inebriety  of  chronic  alcoholics  is  al- 
ways caused  by  drunken  progenitors,  even  if  we  have 
to  go  back  to  remote  generations  to  find  them.  It  is 
nevef  us.  We  ?  —  diamonds  in  cotton,  but  for  the 
setting  of  some  compromising  heredity.  And  thus  we 
play  the  fools  with  Time  while  the  spirits  of  the 
wise  sit  in  the  clouds  and  mock  us. 

Judging  from  the  looks  of  many  of  Byron's  inam- 
oratas, it  was  not  necessary  that  they  should  possess 
such  faces  as  "  launched  a  thousand  ships,  and  burnt 
the  topless  towers  of  Ilium."  In  a  pinch  any  face,  it 
would  seem,  would  do.  The  poet's  eye  in  a  fine  frenzy 
rolling  sees  even  in  the  blemished  face  beauty  that  is 
invisible  to  others. 

Indeed  he  argued,  as  we  remember,  that  a  poet  did 
not  need  beauty  in  a  wife  or  sweetheart  like  other  peo- 


292  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

pie.  Leave  that  to  prosier  men,  he  said,  for  the  poet 
by  his  superior  imagination  could  produce  beauty  at 
command,  and  by  the  mere  might  of  fancy  transform 
the  plainest  woman  into  a  paragon. 

In  Frederick  Harrison's  latest  addition  to  his  fa- 
miliar ''  Among  My  Books," —  see  the  English  Re- 
viezv,  April,  19 12, —  talking  in  a  rather  lukewarm  way 
about  such  a  torrid  playwright  as  Alfieri,  he  writes, 
"  There  is  no  touch  of  tenderness  in  him  and  hardly 
a  real  lover  occurs,  even  in  the  humble  denouement  of 
*  Mirra,'     which     threw     Byron     into     an     epileptic 

fit,  ..." 

The  reader  will  remember  that  Edmund  Kean  in 
Massinger's  "  Sir  Giles  Overreach  "  also  threw  Byron 
into  convulsions,  and  Mrs.  Siddons  in  "  Lady  Mac- 
beth "  in  Edinburgh  threw  his  mother  into  such  a 
state  that  she  had  to  be  carried  out  in  epileptic  convul- 
sions and  came  near  putting  an  end  to  the  play.  And 
indeed  it  would  seem  by  the  frequency  with  which 
Byron's  fits  as  well  as  his  mother's  were  mixed  up 
with  contemporary  drama  that  when  a  critic  wanted  to 
say  anything  startling  and  picturesque  about  it,  he 
did  so  by  saying  that  it  threw  some  member  of  the 
Byron  or  Gordon  family  into  spasms,  as  if  in  doing 
that  it  had  attained  the  zenith  of  dramatic  impressive- 
ness. 

This  is  indeed  a  new  way  of  being  related  to  litera- 
ture, but  it  at  least  has  the  attractiveness  of  novelty. 

As  we  have  hinted,  according  to  Arthur  MacDon- 
ald  —  see    "Abnormal    Man,"    page    150  —  our  poet 


BYRON  293 

"  was  born  in  convulsions,"  and  we  may  add  in  sin  did 
his  mother  conceive  him,  for  his  father  was  a  drunkard 
and  Hbertine  and  his  mother  had  "  nerves."  MoHere, 
Charles  Dickens,  Charles  V,  and  Peter  the  Great  also 
had  fits,  but  only  during  childhood.  Thus  the  reflex 
spasms  of  infancy  may  usually  be  prevented  from  de- 
veloping into  chronic  epilepsy. 

Byron,  like  Caesar,  his  brother  in  similarity  of  afflic- 
tion, in  spite  of  it  had  what  Virgil  calls  an  unconquer- 
able yearning  for  fame.  Like  Caesar  in  other  ways 
too,  Byron  was  as  wicked  as  the  Prince  or  the  Princess 
of  the  Pit  could  wish  him ;  in  others  still,  good  enough 
to  delight  the  heart  of  the  Recording  Angel. 

It  seems  to  us  that  if  Byron  had  lived  longer  his 
convulsions  would  have  become  more  frequent,  and  his 
life  would  have  ended  in  insanity  and  suicide,  for 
the  reader  may  remember  his  exhibiting  homicidal  and 
suicidal  impulses. 

Lady  Byron  after  their  separation  lived  a  retired 
life  devoted  to  good  works.  Their  daughter  Ada,  as 
her  father  wrote  of  her,  born  in  bitterness  and  nurtured 
in  convulsions,  was  married  to  the  Earl  of  Lovelace, 
July  8,  1835,  and  died  November  29,  1852.  Some 
of  her  letters  may  be  found  in  '^  Crabbe  Robin- 
son's Diary."  She  spent  a  large  part  of  her  income  in 
charity.  If  there  were  other  heirs  they  are  unknown 
to  me. 

We  have  felt  how  interesting  it  would  be  to  know 
what  Dr.  Johnson  would  have  said  about  the  author  of 
"  Heaven  and  Earth  "  and  "  Cain  "  and  "  Don  Juan  " 


294  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY, 

and  ''  Childe  Harold's  Pilgrimage "  while  installing 
him  in  the  Pantheon  of  British  Poets:  whether  he 
would  have  regarded  his  eccentricities  and  heterodoxies 
both  of  speech  and  conduct  as  the  result  of  an  abnor- 
mal nervous  system  and  other  misfortunes ;  whether  he 
would  have  branded  him  with  the  stigmata  of  degen- 
eracy and  put  him  in  the  pillory  of  scathing  but 
pompous  denunciation,  or  whether, —  more  likely, —  as 
he  did  the  bar-sinistered  Savage,  he  would  have  taken 
him  with  all  his  faults  to  his  bosom  and  called  him  with 
Goethe  ''  the  "  greatest  Englishman  since  Shakespeare. 

We  may  be  sure  that  Byron  would  have  taken  to 
Ursa  Major.  He  liked  bears,  judging  from  what  we 
know  about  him  while  at  Oxford,  and  a  favorite  book 
with  him  was  "  Johnson's  Lives  of  the  British  Poets," 
which  he  read  first  as  a  boy  and  continued  to  admire 
to  the  end,  it  being  one  of  the  books  from  which  he 
most  frequently  quoted. 

Yet,  so  important  is  the  bubble  reputation,  that  if 
Byron,  as  we  have  read  somewhere,  had  done  what 
Johnson  in  the  extravagant  liberality  of  his  heart  did, 
that  is,  entertain  in  his  house,  sometimes  at  the  same 
time,  four  women  besides  a  few  indigent  men, —  Mrs. 
Williams,  a  poor  poetess:  Miss  Carter  and  Mrs.  Mc- 
Caulay,  "  two  ladies  who  must  have  looked  strangely  at 
each  other,"  says  Leigh  Hunt;  Mrs.  Gardner,  the  wife 
of  a  tallow-chandler  on  Snow  Hill,  "  not  in  the  learned 
way,"  said  Mrs.  Barber,  ''  but  a  good,  worthy  woman," 
—  if  Byron  had  done  this,  the  world  would  never  have 
heard  the  end  of  it.     And  Byron  himself,  so  abnor- 


BYRON  295 

mally  perverse,  as  the  mood  took  him,  might  have  re- 
ported it  as  an  illustration  of  moral  incorrigibility. 
Johnson,  unlike  Byron  in  one  v^ay,  never  lost  sight 
of  the  dignity  of  goodness,  and  resembled  him  in  an- 
other in  that  he  did  not  confine  his  attentions  to  the 
noble  and  amiable,  since  persons  obnoxious  to  others, 
in  various  ways,  on  that  very  account  became  objects 
of  his  beneficence. 

Byron  was  fond  of  display  —  but  not  in  the  way  of 
saintship  —  even  to  the  trappings  of  luxury,  and  he 
would  have  them  though  tawdry,  says  the  Countess 
of  Blessington.  He  dwelt  with  much  complacency  on 
the  four  coal  black  horses  and  magnificent  harness  that 
drew  the  private  carriage  of  Count  Gamba,  the  accom- 
modating Italian  noblem^an  already  introduced,  who 
lent  Byron  his  wife,  and  rented  him  apartments  in  his 
palace.  Yet,  with  all  the  facility  for  love-making,  and 
with  all  the  pageantry  and  splendor  of  a  wealthy  noble 
house,  Byron  ungallantly  abandoned  it  all  at  last,  and, 
as  it  would  seem,  at  the  call  to  arms  of  another  variety. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

In  otherwise  precocious  affairs  of  the  heart,  Byron 
was  said  by  an  enthusiastic  German  critic,  because  of 
the  earhest  one  of  them,  to  be  on  a  level  with 
Dante,  which  would  be  like  saying  that  his  having  red 
hair  put  him  into  the  same  class  with  Queen  Elizabeth 
and  Kit  Marlow.  The  curious  in  such  matters  will 
remember  that  Dante  when  nine  years  old  fell  in  love 
with  a  girl  a  year  younger  and  that  he  adored  this 
one  person,  or  abstraction,  to  the  end  of  his  days. 
Byron  in  this  was  like  fifty  Dantes,  except  that  he  did 
not  burden  the  soul  of  a  weary  world  by  writing 
tediously  mystic  zntas  nuovas  about  them.  His  method 
of  commemoration  was  rather  through  the  instrumen- 
tality of  a  poem. 

His  multiple  attachments  even  in  boyhood,  which 
his  many  biographers  have  thought  of  importance 
enough  to  be  put  upon  record,  I  allude  to  because  of 
the  key  they  offer  to  the  solution  of  his  difficult  psy- 
chology, and  because  of  the  canvas  they  present  for 
the  display  of  his  many  parts,  almost  from  mewing 
infancy  to  the  time  of  his  seeking  the  bubble  reputa- 
tion at  the  cannon's  mouth  at  the  end  of  his  tragedy. 
His  love-affairs  in  boyhood  were  almost  frequent 
enough  to  be  designated  by  Roman  numerals  like 
kings.     Mary,  not  Beatrice,  was  a  favorite  name  with 

296 


BYRON  297 

him.  He  even,  we  believe,  liked  the  Welsh  song 
"  Mary  Ann,"  because  that  was  the  name  of  so  many 
of  his  juvenile  sweethearts. 

There  are  at  least  five  Marys  in  the  list  of  his  youth- 
ful infatuations,  and  future  research  may  discover 
others,  maids  somewhat  of  the  mist  some  of  them,  but 
still  all  but  one  real  enough  for  identification.  The 
first  Mary's  other  name  was  Duff,  in  spite  of  which  in 
his  ninth  year  he  became  so  enamoured  that  he  could 
not  bear  to  be  absent  from  her  without  counting  the 
hours  and  minutes.  And  a  few  years  afterward, 
being  distant  from  her,  even  when  the  intensity  of  his 
ardor,  you  might  imagine,  had  subsided,  on  being 
told  by  his  mother  of  her  marriage,  he  lost  conscious- 
ness and  almost  fell  in  a  fit.  Such  attacks  of  petit 
mal  were  frequent  throughout  his  life.  This  was  the 
affair  which  an  admiring  German  critic,  after  the  mat- 
ter of  fact  manner  of  his  hair-splitting  race,  said  "  put 
him  on  a  level  with  Dante." 

Then  there  was  Mary,  "the  heiress  of  Annesley," 
before  mentioned,  according  to  Moore  the  most  pro- 
found and  enduring  of  all  his  attachments, —  an  at- 
tachment, notwithstanding  his  biographer's  assevera- 
tion to  the  contrary,  that  was  renewed  after  many 
years,  but  tragically,  too  compromisingly  so  to  be  men- 
tioned in  detail. 

Among  the  Marys  following  like  the  procession  of 
Banquo's  heirs  in  "  Macbeth  "  must  be  included  *'  Mary 
of  Aberdeen,"  the  third  Mary.  Then  there  was  Mary, 
fourth  in  the  list,  whom,  for  lack  of  a  better  name,  we 


298  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

will  call  Mary  of  Cambridge,  the  sprightly  young  crea- 
ture who  dressed  as  a  boy  and  accompanied  him  on  his 
rambles  when  he  was  disguised  as  a  gypsy.  At  the 
time  he  was  supposed  to  be  a  student  at  the  university, 
and  this  episode  was  nearly  the  cause  of  his  expulsion. 
After  it  was  discovered  the  foolish  girl  was  dismissed 
in  disgrace,  and  for  a  time  her  place  in  his  affections 
was  taken  by  a  tame  bear,  which  slept  in  his  room, 
played  havoc  with  the  furniture,  and  which  he  led 
around  the  town  on  a  chain,  to  the  amusement  and  ter- 
ror of  the  alarmed  inhabitants. 

Finally  there  was  a  fifth.  Mary  of  the  golden 
fleece  we  shall  call  her,  because  of  the  color  of  her  hair. 
A  ringlet  of  her  orange-tawTiy  tresses  he  for  a  long 
time  —  for  him  —  carried  in  a  locket  near  his  heart. 
He  exhibited  occasionally,  as  a  great  favor  to  his  fa- 
miliars, a  miniature  of  this  golden-haired  unknown  — 
for  she  has  not  yet  been  identified  by  Byron  specialists 
—  which  he  wore  suspended  around  his  neck^  as  Edwin 
Booth  as  Hamlet  carried  the  counterfeit  presentment 
of  his  poisoned  father,  and  kissed  it  just  as  ostenta- 
tiously. Then  there  were  the  Margarets.  I  will  men- 
tion but  one.  Parker  was  her  other  name.  She  kept 
him  awake  and  inconsolable  during  "  the  twelve  long 
and  weary  hours  which  elapsed  between  their  meet- 
ings." A  poem  written  about  Margaret  Parker  after 
her  death  from  an  injury  constituted,  he  said,  "  his 
first  dash  into  poetry." 

He  immortalized  and  glorified  each  of  his  idols  in  a 
poem,  declaring  them  all,  after  his  melodramatic  man- 


BYRON  299 

ner,  "  gems  of  the  first  water."  Commonplace  enough 
they  might  have  appeared  to  us,  for  the  poet's  eye,  in  a 
fine  frenzy  rolling,  often  gives  to  airy  nothingness  a 
local  habitation  and  a  name. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

Dr.  Madden,  in  "  The  Infirmities  of  Genius," 
writing  about  Byron,  says :  "  If  feelings  of  delicacy 
induced  Byron's  biographers  to  conceal  a  truth  they 
were  aware  of,  or  deemed  it  better  to  withhold,  their 
motive  was  a  good  one,  but  it  was  nevertheless  a  mis- 
taken delicacy,  for  there  are  no  infirmities  so  humiliat- 
ing to  humanity  as  irregularities  of  conduct  are  in  em- 
inent individuals.  .  .  .  That  Byron  labored  under  a 
specific  malady  which  gravely  affected  the  mental  fac- 
ulties and  influenced,  if  it  did  not  determine,  his  con- 
duct on  very  many  occasions  is  a  fact  as  obvious  as  his 
defects.  .  .  .  His  epilepsy  he  thinks  was  hereditary, 
due  rather  to  his  mother,  also  subject  to  epileptic 
seizure,  than  to  his  father  who  was  more  than  likely 
only  a  chronic  alcoholic." 

The  opposite  of  this  has  been  observed  by  some  med- 
ical writers,  among  others  Eccheveria,  who  wrote  the 
first  book  on  epilepsy  in  America,  and  who  declares 
that  chronic  inebriation  on  the  part  of  the  parents  or 
parent  is  more  likely  to  produce  epilepsy  in  the  child 
than  epilepsy  itself  is. 

Byron  seems  to  have  had  many  attacks  of  petit  mat 
from  infancy,  with  an  occasional  attack  of  grand  mal, 
but  he  was  not  as  much  of  a  victim  of  the  disease  as 
either  Caesar  or  Mohammed.     Yet  he  was  enough  of 

300 


BYRON  301 

a  victim  of  epilepsy  to  keep  him  in  constant  suspense. 

Hobhouse,  his  famihar  friend  and  author  of  the 
elaborate  notes  to  "  Childe  Harold,"  mentions  attacks 
of  petit  mal  on  the  part  of  his  friend  which  he  called 
"  swoons."  Byron  describes  these  attacks  as  ''  a  sort 
of  gray  giddiness  first,  then  nothingness,  and  total  loss 
of  consciousness."  In  a  letter  from  Bologna  in  18 19 
he  writes :  ''  Last  night  I  went  to  the  representation  of 
Alfieri's  '  Mirra,'  the  last  two  acts  of  which  threw  me 
into  convulsions.  I  do  not  mean  by  that  word  a  lady's 
hysterics,  but  an  agony  of  reluctant  tears  and  the 
choking  shudder  which  I  do  not  often  undergo  for 
fiction."  This  is  about  all,  not  always  that  much,  that 
the  patient  would  know  of  an  attack  of  epilepsy.  He 
had  also,  according  to  Dallas,  attacks  of  hysteric  laugh- 
ter without  merriment,  which  he  could  neither  under- 
stand nor  control.  He  was  also  as  susceptible  to 
noises  as  Mohammed  was  to  odors.  He  could  not 
endure  the  ringing  of  bells,  he  bribed  his  garrulous 
but  melodious  neighbors  while  in  Leghorn  to  keep 
quiet,  and  failing  in  this  he  retaliated  by  making  worse 
noises  himself.  Everything  that  ingenuity  could  in- 
vent to  make  a  racket  he  employed. 

In  his  boyhood  we  are  told  that  the  most  trivial  ac- 
cident was  capable  of  producing  deprivations  of  sense 
and  motion,  when  he  w^ould  stand  still  for  some  time, 
lost  in  unconsciousness. 

"  His  disease,"  says  Captain  Perry,  w^ho  knew  him 
intimately,  "  was  epilepsy,  and  arose  from  indiscretion 
in  diet."     Fletcher,  his  confidential  servant  for  a  num- 


302  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

ber  of  years,  on  a  certain  occasion  excusing  him  from 
company,  said  of  his  master,  "  He  has  but  very  recently 
recovered  from  a  violent  attack  of  epilepsy  which  has 
left  him  weak."  Gait,  in  describing  one  of  Byron's 
seizures,  says :  "  He  was  sitting  in  Colonel  Stan- 
hope's room,  talking  jestingly  with  Captain  Perry,  ac- 
cording to  his  wonted  manner,  when  his  eyes  and 
forehead  discovered  that  he  was  agitated  by  strong  feel- 
ings; he  suddenly  complained  of  weakness  of  the  legs, 
then  rose,  but  finding  himself  unable  to  walk,  he  called 
for  aid,  and  immediately  fell  into  a  violent  convulsion 
and  was  placed  on  a  bed.  While  the  fit  lasted  his  face 
was  hideously  distorted,  but  in  a  few  minutes  the  con- 
vulsion ceased  and  he  began  to  recover  his  senses;  his 
speech  returned  and  he  soon  rose,  apparently  well. 
During  this  struggle  his  strength  was  preternaturally 
augmented,  and  when  it  was  over  he  behaved  with  his 
usual  firmness."  This  is  as  good  a  description  of  an 
ordinary  attack  of  epilepsy  as  if  written  by  Hippocrates 
himself.  Another  description  of  an  attack  we  take 
from  an  eye-witness.  *'  There  was  an  unusual  flush  in 
his  face  and  from  the  rapid  change  of  his  countenance 
we  saw  he  was  suffering  under  some  nervous  agitation. 
He  complained  of  being  thirsty,  and  calling  for  some 
cider  drank  it.  He  arose  from  his  seat  but  was  unable 
to  walk.  ...  In  another  minute  his  teeth  were 
closed,  his  speech  and  sense  gone,  and  he  was  in  strong 
convulsions.  .  .  .  The  fit,  however,  was  as  short 
as  it  was  violent;  in  a  few  minutes  his  speech  and 
senses   returned;  his   features,  though   still  pale  and 


BYRON  303 

haggard,  resumed  their  natural  shape,  and  no  effect 
remained  from  the  attack  but  excessive  weakness." 

At  intervals  during  his  entire  life  he  felt,  as  Curran 
said  he  felt  before  his  death,  a  mountain  of  lead  upon 
his  heart.  He  suffered  much  from  headache,  probably 
due  to  nocturnal  attacks  of  epilepsy,  as  the  morning 
headache  of  many  people  is  due  to  unconscious  nightly 
seizures,  occurring  often  in  sleep.  Byron  was  con- 
stantly apprehensive  of  insanity  and  was  afraid  that, 
like  Swift,  he  would  die  first  at  the  top.  His  hypo- 
chondria in  its  protean  manifestations  was  known  to  all 
his  friends  and  was  the  cause  often  of  his  irregulari- 
ties and  caused  him  to  wTite  in  his  journal,  "  I  awake 
every  morning  in  actual   despair  and   despondency." 

His  first  epileptic  seizure  in  Greece,  says  Jeaffreson 
in  "  The  Real  Lord  Byron,"  w^as  after  his  first  disap- 
pointment there.  It  was  in  the  presence  of  several 
witnesses  who  observed  the  efifort  he  made  to  gain 
command  of  himself  on  the  subsidence  of  the  convul- 
sion. This  fit,  Fletcher  said,  ''  ran  its  course  in  about 
fifteen  minutes."  The  attacks  became  more  frequent 
it  would  seem  while  he  was  pursuing  his  military  expe- 
dition in  Greece.  After  describing  the  first  seizure 
there,  an  anonymous  wTiter  in  the  Westminster  Re- 
view for  1824,  article  "Lord  Byron  in  Greece,"  says: 
*'  In  the  course  of  the  month  the  attacks  were  repeated 
four  times.  In  fact  the  poet  had  five  epileptic  fits  in 
fifteen  days." 

It  was  while  suffering  from  these  ominous  and 
quickly    successive    seizures    in    a    strange    land    and 


304  IN  SPITE  OF  EPILEPSY 

among  a  people  that  were  a  disappointment  to  him  and 
whose  language  and  lack  of  capacity  he  did  not 
know  —  for  he  only  knew  classic  Greek  and  then  only 
on  the  printed  page,  and  not  well  even  then  —  that  he 
wrote  the  sad  unfinished  letter  to  his  sister  mentioned 
by  Moore,  in  which  he  alludes  so  touchingly  to  his 
young  life. 

It  soon  became  apparent  that  he  had  caught  his 
death.  Bleeding  was  suggested  to  allay  the  fever, 
after  the  good  old  Sangrado  method.  Byron  held  out 
against  it,  quoting  though  with  his  usual  wit  and  en- 
ergy Dr.  Reid  to  the  effect  that  "  less  slaughter  is 
effected  by  the  lance  than  the  lancet,  that  minute  in- 
strument of  mighty  mischief."  The  next  morning  one 
of  the  consulting  physicians,  Dr.  Milligan,  caused  him 
to  submit  to  depletion  by  suggesting  the  possible  loss 
of   reason,    when   throwing   out   his    arm    he    cried: 

"  There !     You  are,  I  see,  a  d d  set  of  butchers ! 

Take  what  you  please  and  be  done  with  it."  The  next 
morning  he  was  "  blooded  "  again  with  the  addition  of 
blisters,  when,  being  exposed  for  the  application  of  the 
counter-irritant,  he  manifested  anxiety  that  his  de- 
formed foot  should  not  be  exposed.  "  On  the  i8th," 
says  Mr.  Nichols,  '*  he  saw  more  doctors,  but  was  man- 
ifestly sinking,  amid  the  tears  and  lamentations  of  at- 
tendants who  could  not  understand  one  another's 
language." 

The  things  dearest  to  a  man  often  recur  to  his  mind 
at  death.  ''  In  his  last  hours  his  delirium,"  says  the 
same  writer,  *'  bore  him  to  the  field  of  battle."     He 


BYRON  305 

fancied  he  was  leading  the  attack  on  Lepanto,  and  was 
heard  exclaiming,  "  Forward !  Forward !  Follow  me !  " 
The  stormy  vision  passed  and  his  troubled  mind,  like 
a  wounded  stag  to  his  thicket,  w^andered  across  the  sea 
to  his  far-away  home,  his  own  country  and  people. 

We  have  but  a  few  phrases  with  w'hich  to  recon- 
struct his  last  days  of  despondency,  uttered  during  the 
lucid  moments  occurring  between  the  intervals  of  de- 
lirium. Almost  his  last  words  were,  "  Oh,  my  poor, 
dear  child!"  A  pause.  "My  dear  Ada."  Then 
uncomprehended  mutterings.  ''  My  dear  sister  Au- 
gusta." Then,  after  an  interval  of  stertorous  breath- 
ing, getting  closer  to  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
"  And  you  will  go  to  —  Lady  Byron,  Fletcher,  and  tell 
her  everything  —  you  are  friends  with  her."  Then, 
*'  My  wife,  my  child,  my  sister,  lo  lascio  qualche  cosa 
di  caro  nel  mondo."  "  All  is  over,"  he  said.  "  I  hope 
not,"  said  Fletcher,  "  but  the  Lord's  will  be  done." 
"  Yes,  not  mine,"  said  Byron,  "  for  the  rest  I  am  con- 
tent to  die."  At  six  on  the  evening  of  the  19th  of 
April,  1824,  he  had  uttered  his  last  word,  his 
chin  dropped  to  his  breast,  his  eyes  opened,  and  all 
v/as  over  with  the  man,  many  of  whose  shortcomings 
w^ere  the  result  of  disease  and  misfortune  rather  than 
of  depravity.  Stanhope  wrote,  on  hearing  the  news, 
"  England  has  lost  her  brightest  genius ;  Greece,  her 
noblest  friend." 


DATE  DUE 


exp-MAi^^>>'>^''''^^^ 


<?  1936i 


pro\ 
the: 


rf^^n 


Demco,  Inc.  38-293 


0043069134 


RC395 
Woods 

In 


^/!Be 


spite  of  epilepsy 


^N  PERSON 'ir 


OC\Orarv» 


I        -"■-^^-■■^^^-"— ^"^  ■" . -.^^  ^.^— ^— ^^^~. 


